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Secrets & Sorcery | Countess Elizabeth, Count Elijah & Vindictus the Dark
Elizabeth felt her stomach clench at these words, for she knew it to be true. As much as she liked to believe the world was envious of her, she knew in the end that no one would save her. They would all enjoy watching her burn. “I was with child, Vindictus. Yours. Elijah doesn’t know this. I never told him. I never told anyone.” She hissed, her knees feeling terribly weak....
Chat | Countess Elizabeth & Vindictus the Dark
Vind listened but he did not care, in fact there was probably nothing more in the world he cared less about than Elizabeth’s ego and title being pushed even higher, inflated. He didn’t care to meet the man she’d spend the rest of her life popping children out for—though it would be debatable if they were his at all—he didn’t care for the grand affair, or any coronation. ‘That sounds nice. Congratulations....’
Vind listened but he did not care, in fact there was probably nothing more in the world he cared less about than Elizabeth’s ego and title being pushed even higher, inflated. He didn’t care to meet the man she’d spend the rest of her life popping children out for—though it would be debatable if they were his at all—he didn’t care for the grand affair, or any coronation. ‘That sounds nice. Congratulations.’
Vind had been called, and for some time he’d sat pretty, finishing what it was he had to do, prolonging the time until he had to see her again. It was all so very rushed he could feel his head spinning, or maybe it was the wine and mead he’d had the night before making his head throb. Eventually, thirty minutes later, he found himself dragging his feet down to the girl’s room, not knocking as he entered, ‘Yes?’
Elizabeth refrained from rolling her eyes at the man. Again, another habit of his; entering without any sort of announcement. “Sit down. Please.” She added quickly, gesturing to the nearby chair.
Vind ’s eyebrows rose as she asked, actually asked and rather nicely too, so he did sit himself down, legs crossed at the ankle, leaning back with hands folded in his lap, eyes on her.
Elizabeth took a sharp intake of breath, her hands clenching and unclenching. She began pacing again, finding it far too difficult to just remain still. Nobility did not apologize. Elizabeth did not apologize. “I…I did not mean to be so harsh last night. It is a subject I have not discussed with anyone. In fact, it is something that I had hoped would never be spoken of again. But…you have a right to know it.” It was so difficult, to be in this room with him, the man she had nearly given up everything for. He did not know that, however. Hopefully, that would not be revealed either, lest he take particular glee in his power over her.
Vind watched her carefully, the way her hands clenched, the way her eyes moved, she was nervous and there was no hiding it, but if she wanted to apologise to him it would not be quite so easy, not accepted until he heard the exact words, ‘Yes.’
Elizabeth swept towards him, tentatively reaching down to caress his cheek where she had slapped him yesterday. “I…” She swallowed. “I am sorry.” Her voice was a hushed whisper, and she quickly pulled her hand away.
Vind didn’t say anything for some time, his own hand coming to his cheek, almost chasing the feel of her fingers, his eyes were dark and downcast, but he pushed himself to sit up a little better, ‘It’s not your fault. I know that.’ Another sigh, he stood, not too sure what to do with himself, but he found himself pulling her into a tight embrace, resting his cheek on the top of her head, ‘I know it wasn’t your fault.’
Elizabeth tensed for a moment as he pulled her close. It had been so long since they had be in this position, and it caused her heart to ache. “You do not remember, but when we were last together, I was at home, in Knockturn. On my deathbed. We had said our goodbyes.” She grabbed onto his shoulders, tears spilling down her reddened cheeks. It had not been a proper goodbye, as Elijah had not let Vindictus see Elizabeth, but he had been there, and she knew it. She calmed down, relaxing her petite body against his.
Vind sighed, he wanted to close his eyes and relax there, but he couldn’t, his eyes remained open, glazed, staring off at some pinprick on the wall, he felt his stomach lurch. He didn’t remember, he could have come back here and she might have been gone, dead and buried, something so big and he just did not remember. He didn’t know what to say. ‘Oh?’
Elizabeth pulled away slowly, not wanting to let herself get carried away. “Everyone thought I had died.” Her parents had a casket prepared. It had been a grim month. “You really don’t remember anything?” She just could not seem to grasp this concept. They had been through so much together, and just like that…it was gone.
Vind shook his head slightly, arms dropping back to his sides. A hand came to his eyes, rubbing at them, he’d been up most of the night, writing things, immersing himself in his work, run away thoughts of hurting both Elizabeth and Elijah, something that would never come to be, ‘Nothing.’
Elizabeth sighed, looking down. “I wish I could forget…or at least, make others forget. Then perhaps I would not be engaged.” She looked back up at Vindictus, tensing up once more. “What you know, of Elijah and myself…”
Vind raised his hand, ‘Should stop, that’s what. You know it isn’t right, but for your sakes I shan’t say anything for now.’ He wanted to cut the subject off completely, it was not something he cared for, cared to know about or even wanted to think about happening. ‘Practice and you can make people do whatever you want them to.’
Elizabeth felt a strange sense of irony at his words. Vindictus, telling her what was wrong and what was right. “I care for him more than anything, and he loves me. It has and will always be that way, whether you agree or not. The important thing is that you shall keep this information to yourself.” The Countess did not see anything at all wrong with her relationship, even if Jane and Vindictus claimed it to be blasphemous. Elijah was her other half, plain and simple. Only together were they right.
Vind watched her, ‘Then you stop praying to any God.’ It was the last he would say on the subject and he turned on his heel, ‘Are we done here? I have things to do and sleep to catch up on, as I’m sure you do, as well.’
Elizabeth could feel fury building up in her, but she did what she did best and repressed it. She had apologized. She owed him nothing. “We are done. Good evening.”
Vind paused, looking over his shoulder at her, and he looked for a little while, trying to conjure up whatever had been locked away in the recesses of his mind, trying to find something in there that might give an inkling to what he’d forgotten, or why he’d forgotten it, but there was nothing. ‘Practice your spells, Elizabeth, the ones I’ve given you, you might need them.’
Elizabeth was instantly on the defense, no longer hearing anything positive. “Are you threatening me?”
Vind laughed, ‘No, why would I have you practice if I were? I’m not one to make things more difficult for myself.’
Elizabeth shook her head. “Oh please Vindictus. Even you must remember what a terrible witch I am.” There was a strange bit of levity in that statement, as if she had almost told a joke.
Vind let himself smile, and he turned properly, facing her, ‘That’s why I said you should practice, you never know when somebody might come and grab you in the night.’ His eyebrows rose a little, a smirk on his lips, holding himself back from dong just that.
Elizabeth actually laughed, a true, honest laugh, looking up at him. “Oh, but that could be great fun. What strange ideas you have.” Elizabeth knew full well that if anyone planned on kidnapping her, they would take her right back after only five minutes with her complaining.
Vind could see, maybe, why he might have loved her in the past, but it was a shame; that was over now, it was long gone and buried deep under the walls he’d built up for himself, ‘One day you’ll be praising those strange ideas.’
Elizabeth quirked a delicate brow. “Undoubtedly I shall yearn for such things when I am a Duchess and bored to death.” Because she was going to be a Duchess. They could not forget that, not either one of them.
Vind nodded his head slowly, ‘Yes, you are. Congratulations. When is the wedding?’
Elizabeth felt the humor drain from her at the mention of the wedding. “I do not know. It will be in London…there’s a coronation and so much to go with it.” Whilst she did enjoy the idea of being a Duchess, she did not like the thought of losing her freedom, of being bossed around by her husband. “It shall be a grand affair for all.” She continued, using the same, dull tone Elijah often took on when speaking of shopping. “Though…I do not know if you should meet my betrothed.” Now that she thought on it, the two men really shouldn’t meet.
Vind listened but he did not care, in fact there was probably nothing more in the world he cared less about than Elizabeth’s ego and title being pushed even higher, inflated. He didn’t care to meet the man she’d spend the rest of her life popping children out for—though it would be debatable if they were his at all—he didn’t care for the grand affair, or any coronation. ‘That sounds nice. Congratulations.’
Elizabeth stared at him, studying him. “You’re repeating yourself.” She paused. “You proposed to me once.”
Vind didn’t look at her for a moment, thinking on it, the past few days, ‘I take it you said no.’
Elizabeth moved towards him, towards the door, her hand resting upon the doorknob. “No. I did not say no.” She tilted her head, indicating that he should be on his way by now.
Vind stopped his thoughts, looking at her, ‘You call me down here and yet you are so eager for me to leave at the first mention of something you don’t like, why is that?’
Elizabeth kept her cool blue eyes on him. Because I am not often challenged in such a way. “What would you have me talk about, Vindictus? There is a great chance we shan’t agree on anything, you and I.”
Vind raised his eyebrows, ‘I don’t know, but today you call me here to be nice and apologise, yesterday you were livid and you still offered tea.’
Elizabeth gave a little shrug of her shoulders. “‘Tis called being polite.” She paused, mulling over his words. “Would you like some tea, then?”
Vind smiled and gave a short, curt nod, ‘Yes I would. And you can tell me about this darling betrothed of yours.’
Elizabeth moved away from the door, finding this to be a strange turn of events. She should not be getting along so with this man. Still, she went to the table, pouring two cups of tea. “He owns a shop in the village, of which Elijah is now part co-owner. It is an uninteresting little place. Curios, mostly.” She sighed, sounding quite bored already. “They like to bicker over everything. Surely you do not care about this, Vindictus.”
Vind moved and sat himself down, waiting for the tea, watching her with his hands in his lap, one still red with the burns—he hadn’t bothered to see Clio to get it sorted just yet ‘I don’t care at all, no, but it’s something isn’t it? I’ve had nothing but anger from the both of you since I came back, and the mundane is a good a place as any to start.’
Elizabeth slid his cup towards him, waltzing over to her vanity and plucking her wand from the drawer. Whilst the Countess was no healer, charms and healing spells were her only strong points. She had to know some healing, as she often hurt herself and could not always rely on a nurse. “Let me see your hand.”
Vind looked at her wearily, wondering what sort of botched job she was planning to do, but he held out his hand regardless, deciding to humour her, picking up his tea with the other, and a light yawn, ‘Don’t mangle it.’ He teased.
Elizabeth again fought the urge to roll her eyes at him. There was that familiar teasing in his tone again, something she was all too familiar with. It was almost comforting to hear. She took his hand gently, keeping it steady as she circled the wand with a little flourish, then tapped the wound. “Episkey.” It was her go-to healing spell, and naturally, it worked. “It may sting for a moment.”
Vind ‘s nose wrinkled a little bit as she cast the spell, almost flinching, just in case, but all seemed to work out well. He shook his hand out a bit, stretching his fingers—yes, it was definitely time to learn some of these healing spells, ‘Thank you.’ He glanced up to her cheek, glad to see there was no mark there, no redness, ‘So, which shop?’
Elizabeth had been watching him study his hand, waiting for…his approval? God. When he spoke, she frowned, her eyes flicking back to his face. “What?”
Vind licked his lips, ‘Your brother and this other man. A shop.’ he reminded her, taking up his tea again, ‘Which one?’
Elizabeth snapped back to the present, blinking rapidly for a moment, pretending she had not been staring at his lips. “When you next go to the village, you will know it when you see it.” After all, the shop was now called ‘Borgin and Burke’s’, or some such monstrosity. Vindictus would surely put two and two together. She picked up her own teacup, tracing the lip of it with one finger, her thoughts elsewhere.
Vind nodded slightly. It was awfully boring and frankly he didn’t care at all, ‘And how are the both of you? You and Elijah? Getting better at your spells, and things?’ He wasn’t watching her, merely looking down into his tea, swirling it with soft movements of his wrist.
Elizabeth took a small sip of her tea. “Mmm…Elijah is far better than I. He is fascinated with hexes. Quite good at them too.” Though, Vindictus already knew that. “He reads up on them constantly. Truly, it is a wonder he gets out at all!” She spoke fondly of her brother, as if she were bragging about a terribly intelligent offspring.
Vind nodded again, bringing the cup to his lips, taking another sip, letting it burn his tongue and throat as he swallowed. His legs crossed, one over the other, and he licked his lips again, giving a small laugh. That sounded familiar, ‘Perhaps I shall bring him some new books, I can’t imagine he’s found any good ones without me.’
Elizabeth had returned to pacing and sipping her tea. She never did well with sitting still. “No, I’m sure he has not.” She replied simply. Vindictus wanted to say more, she could tell. “Something on your mind?”
Vind swallowed, and as he did he coughed, having to clear his throat for a moment, and with raised eyebrows he shook his head, a lie, and an obvious one, ‘Nothing in particular, no, why?’
Elizabeth tilted her head, a coy smirk playing upon her lips. “You are the one with the memory problems, not I. There are certain things I just…know.” She set down her cup, smoothing out her dress. “Let us not bother with games, my pet.”
Vind ‘s eyes shot up, and he could feel the embarrassment creeping up the back of his neck, how he, Vindictus, had ever managed to be comfortable enough to be “with” Elizabeth, at the moment, was beyond him, ‘I’m not your pet.’ He muttered defensively, fingers closing around the cup, looking away again.
Elizabeth moved to face him, her expression quite serious. She bent slightly at the hip, placing a kiss upon his forehead. “Don’t.” She said softly, no longer teasing him. “We are past this.”
Vind was unnerved by her constant pacing and when she stopped was really rather pleased. But he sighed, putting the tea to his lips again, ‘I don’t have anything on my mind.’
Elizabeth paused thoughtfully. Nothing on his mind? “The chair you’re sitting in…” She raised an eyebrow, wondering if she needed to elaborate.
Vind swallowed, and suddenly he felt very uncomfortable sitting in that chair, ‘W-what about it?’
Elizabeth stared down at him. “We fucked in it. You and I.” She said it so bluntly, so very crudely that Elizabeth was quite surprised it had even been her own voice. At least now he had something to think about.
Vind clenched his jaw and sipped at the tea again, wondering why she seemed so hellbent on making him squirm, ‘Was it good?’
Elizabeth watched him for a moment, before nodding slowly. “Yes. Yes it was.” She was lost in her own thoughts again; memories of this room.
Vind nodded some, rather pleased with hiimself at least, aside from the fact that he couldn’t imagine sleeping with her now, ‘That’s good, at least.’ he paused, ‘Is Elijah good?’
Elizabeth bit her lip. Was Elijah good? “Good would be an understatement.” She replied honestly, twirling a lock of her dark hair around her finger. “He knows exactly what it is I want, even if I don’t.”
Vind couldn’t lie, he was jealous and painfully so, wishing it was he that knew the answer to the question, ‘I see.. that must be good.’
Elizabeth began to pace again, feeling oddly proud of her brother. “‘Tis nice to have someone push you up against a wall and ravage you.”
Vind looked down into his cup, ‘One can only imagine.’
Elizabeth felt wonderfully warm, this talk having excited her a bit. “You should go now.”
Vind nodded some, setting the cup down as he stood, ‘Thank you for the tea.’
Elizabeth merely nodded to him, no longer quite paying him much attention. “Again, good evening.”
Secrets & Sorcery | IC Chat | Elizabeth , Elijah & Vindictus
Elizabeth felt her stomach clench at these words, for she knew it to be true. As much as she liked to believe the world was envious of her, she knew in the end that no one would save her. They would all enjoy watching her burn. “I was with child, Vindictus. Yours. Elijah doesn’t know this. I never told him. I never told anyone.” She hissed, her knees feeling terribly weak....
Elizabeth made her way down to the common room, returning from the library with two books on Latin and one of the Royal Family’s Genealogy. She swept into the room, pretended to not be at all shocked to see Vindictus there, and continued walking, past him, her chin up and books clutched to her chest.
Vind didn’t glance up either, only he could tell it was her, somebody else would have spoken, perhaps not to him but they would have spoken, ‘Elijah says we’ve had sex.’ He quipped simply, only then letting the chair fall onto four legs and turning to face her.
Elizabeth dropped her books as if her arms had suddenly lost their bones. Elijah said what? “Well…” She turned to face him, her expression still one of utter annoyance, though the color had drained from her face. “Well.” God, why couldn’t she speak properly? “So?” Yes, it was a childish response, but truly, Elizabeth had not expected her brother to tell Vindictus about their past.
Vind shrugged his shoulders some, noting the lack of colour on her cheeks, the way the books had dropped, all of it told him what he needed to know, it was true, ‘So we slept together, and you loved me, I’ll assume I loved you, too, and you thought to keep it from me, yet punish me for not remembering?’
Elizabeth stared at him, feeling slightly nauseous. “I…don’t know if you ever…loved me.” That was hard to admit. She turned away, kneeling down to pick up the books, which she probably would have told Vindictus to do for her, but needed desperately to have a reason not to look at him right now. “If you wished to forget it, why should I make you remember?”
Vind did not answer her question, only standing as she knelt, standing over her, ‘And who says I wished to forget? And what right have you, or your brother, to assume that it is my fault, or to chastise me for it? What else aren’t you telling me, Elizabeth. I want to know it all, or so help me God I will get it one way or another.’
Elizabeth frowned, slamming the books upon the nearest table. “Do not make a scene, Vindictus. God, I shall tell you, but not here.” She stood, smoothing her dress, then began walking down the hall, towards her chambers. “Don’t dawdle.”
Vind ‘s eyes darkened at he words and he scoffed, ‘And what difference does it make? I’m sure they all know more than I do.’ His voice was dripping with annoyance as he turned his back and did not follow, carefully slipping his pieces of paper and works into a book, and then he went, bringing his precious files with him, ‘Go on, explain, and don’t dawdle.’
Elizabeth waited until they had entered her room before shutting the door behind Vindictus. Oh, there was so much even her own brother did not know…damned if she would tell Vindictus everything. “Would you like some tea?” She moved past him again, towards her silver tea set. “I find it best for soothing one’s nerves.”
Vind shook his head, and he did not sit, he did not even put his book down, ‘My nerves are not frazzled, thank you, and like I said, you explain or I shall find a way to make you explain, you know, as well as any, what I am capable of.’ His eyes, usually darting from place to place, observing and noting, were now fixed on her.
Elizabeth refused to return his gaze, looking down at the tea she was currently pouring. Another concoction, courtesy of Cliodna, to help keep up one’s immunity. “I do not take kindly to threats.” She said, simply, as if they were discussing the weather. “We once had an intimate relationship. Physically intimate. What more is there to say?”
Vind didn’t seem to care, ‘And I do not take kindly to my questions being avoided. How did it start, why did it end, a physically intimate relationship is limitied to sex, and so it must have been more, Elizabeth, I warn you, do not lie to me.’
Elizabeth continued to ignore him, being quite fed up with all this. “You have a small scar on your neck.” She replied, absentmindedly. “I did that.”
Vind shrugged, ‘So what? That’s not what I asked you. How did it start?’ At least it wasn’t a lie, as far as he knew.
Elizabeth took a sip of her tea, deciding it was far too sweet. “Oh, I don’t remember. It was such an unimportant time in my life, really. Can we not talk of something else?”
Vind scoffed, ‘And that I know is an outright lie.’ He moved towards her, knocking the cup of tea from her hands and letting his fingers grasp her chin, forcing her to look up, ‘Tell me, Elizabeth.’
Elizabeth glared up at him, her hands clenching into fists. “I was bored and you were there. That is all that happened! Now, let go of me.”
Vind looked over her face, his jaw tight, ‘Is that so? And who else was just there, I wonder, Elijah must have been, too, as you obviously love him, did you move on from me to him? Boredom, fucking and love, yes, how could I not have seen it, three things that obviously link together. Do not lie to me, Elizabeth.’
Elizabeth stared at him, her blue eyes wide. “How…how do you know of that?” How could he possibly remember what he may have seen between Elizabeth and Elijah, but not remember his own affair with the Countess? “He is my brother, Vindictus. Do not be crude.”
Vind let his hand drop, his eyebrows furrowed, and he scoffed, ‘So you are? While it’s not something I asked, it’s something good to know. Do you fuck all the men you say you love, regardless of relation?’ he asked, rather cruelly, and then he shook his head, turning himself around to take the tea he’d been offered, ‘Now are you going to answer my questions or not?’
Elizabeth felt incredibly cold, realizing her mistake. His words stung, and she lashed out, striking his hand as he reached for his tea, then grabbing his collar, tearing the fabric of his shirt, trying her best to get at him, to make him bleed for the things he had said, for the pain he had inflicted upon her for so long now.
Vind was jerked back slightly, but he grabbed her wrist, yanking her back against his chest, only to grasp the other one and cross her arms over her front, ‘Why must you always resort to violence, Elizabeth?’ he hissed, and then he shoved her away towards the bed, ‘And I will not stand for it nearly as readily as your brother might, he is, after all, getting the better treatment.’
Elizabeth panicked, wondering where she had bothered to hide her wand, though she knew even that would be useless. Vindictus would always be far better and faster at casting spells than she. “Do not speak of it! I will not listen!” She held onto the bedpost, using it to regain her balance. Now she certainly regretted the soundproof charm she had cast upon this room. But…he wouldn’t remember she had done that. “I shall scream!”
Vind threw his arms up with a laugh, ‘Then scream all you like and we shall see who comes running to save the girl that looks down her nose at every single one of them.’ He laughed, almost mad with it, ‘What’s the matter? You can’t answer a few questions, and why not? Is it that painful for you, you’d rather subject yourself to this than simply tell the truth?’
Elizabeth felt her stomach clench at these words, for she knew it to be true. As much as she liked to believe the world was envious of her, she knew in the end that no one would save her. They would all enjoy watching her burn. “I was with child, Vindictus. Yours. Elijah doesn’t know this. I never told him. I never told anyone.” She hissed, her knees feeling terribly weak.
Vind froze, and as angry as he had been before it did not compare to the rage that coursed through his veins at these words, but his chest rose and fell with slow, steady breaths, his face seeming devoid of all emotion, ‘Was?’
Elizabeth was positively shaking now, her own breathing unsteady and harsh. “I used to drink a special tea…blended to prevent pregnancies as you and I were…well, I did not realize it did not take. And I did not realize I was with child until it was too late!” And it had killed her, broken her heart, caused a rift between the two of them that could not be repaired. “Happy?!”
Vind looked over her, he was not sure what he felt, if it was anger, sadness, shame or disgust, but whatever it was it was making his stomach churn, making his breakfast want to force it’s way back out of his throat, ‘And you wanted to keep this from me? Who gave you the right to decide that? Why make me force it from you?’ His voice was raising, his nostrils flared and his fingers trembling in anger, ‘And of all the lies you’ve told me, why should I believe you did not rid yourself of it on purpose? What was it? Was I like the rest of them, just not good enough for our infamous Elizabeth Burke?’
Elizabeth lowered herself onto the bed, needing to sit down. “Do you really think me to be that cruel?” She could still remember the horrible, sharp pains, the sudden fever, the blood…”I was foolish enough to have wanted that child, to have wanted you. I was ready to give up everything. For you. I was in love and I almost let it destroy my life!” Naturally, she did not like to dwell on these times. She had been weak, stupid…but no longer. She would not make that mistake ever again. “You know enough now. Leave me be.”
Vind let his eyebrows raise, ‘I do not know what I think of you anymore, Elizabeth, you want to keep the death of my, as it was mine as well as yours, child from me, you lie, you kick and scream, threaten, look down your nose and you have relations with your brother.’ He sighed looking over her again, ‘And don’t you try to turn this on me. Why did you lie?’
Elizabeth looked up at him, her chin trembling. “You have no right to ask any more of me. We are over. I owe you nothing! You are the one who forgot!” Why?! Why was he allowed to forget it all, when she had to think of it every time she saw his face, heard his name…”We hate each other and all is as it should be.”
Vind ‘s hand covered his mouth and he had to swallow the lump in his throat. His eyes were wet and yet he shook his head, ‘I don’t hate you. I pity you, I feel sorry for you, Elizabeth. I would never hate you.’
Elijah had the practice to knock at the door, unlike one sister who did barrel through it as if a closed door did mean nothing.
Elizabeth clutched the blankets beneath her, her gaze moving from Vindictus to the door. “I’m…not decent.” She called immediately, her voice far more shrill than she intended it to be. “You should hate me. It would be so much easier.” She then murmured, though did not look at Vindictus again.
Vind bit his teeth together, of all things to say! he thought to himself, rolling his eyes a little bit. ‘Well I don’t, because I’m not a hateful person.’ He stood himself straighter and moved his fingers to his eyes, giving them a wipe before grasping the fallen tea cup, carelessly putting it on the table before moving to yank open the door. ‘Elijah.’
Elijah thought it strange that she would claim to be ‘not decent,’ by his mentality, the Elizabeth that he knew was never decent at all. Perhaps she was intent on starting a trend that one would change their gowns on the occasion, twice a day. What a frivolous little creature. Still it did sound rather high pitched. What the hell? Did she lace her gown too tight? The door swung open not by magic, but by the hand that pulled it open and it was not whom he expected. He blinked, “Vindictus,” and his eyes found his sister. “What the hell is going on?”
Elizabeth felt panic rise as she saw her brother in the doorway. “I tried…I couldn’t!” She inhaled sharply, her eyes filling with tears. God damn it all. She was not going to start crying. Where was her bloody wand?!
Vind licked his lips, sending a glare over his shoulder at Elizabeth, but he did not close the door, he simply let his hand drop, ‘She spilled some tea.’ He lied, and an obvious lie, before stepping back into the room, picking up one of the clean cups and pouring himself one, ‘Why don’t you tell him what the hell is going on, Elizabeth, better to hear it from horse’s mouth.’
Elijah closed the door behind him with his foot and it gave a resounding sort of thud. What was going on certainly was best to keep between the three of them, and the count did not wish the rest of the damn castle to know his business. He gave Vindictus a dangerous sort of look and then eyed his sister once more, what each said blatantly contradicted each other. “Do tell.”
Elizabeth was still shaking, and now chose to ignore the both of them, clenching her hands into fists, letting her nails dig into her palms. “O, Lord…give no place to the evil demon to subdue me with the oppression of this mortal body…keep me from every affront of the enemy, lest I anger God by any sin…” She wanted to bleed, and she wanted them to leave. They had no right to barge into her private chambers and demand anything of her.
Vind sipped at the tea he’d poured, his hands shaking still, though only slightly, and he looked over to Elijah, ‘What your sister lacks in tact she makes up for in prayers. Worry not, I’ve been told everything I’d forgotten.’ He was still surprisingly calm, overwhelmed by what he had heard and he was fighting inside himself, fighting not to stand up, dash the cup to the floor and leave in a puff of smoke.
Elijah wore a grimace for a second or two, displeased by how she sought to pray and what Vindictus said. “Elizabeth does not comprehend the concept of tact.” Nor did she really understand that she herself was her own worst enemy, her own demon. Vindictus told him not to worry, but Elijah was not finding that a comforting sort of statement. Instead he focused on his sister and how she had taken that familiar tone upon herself, the familiar way she balled her fists. He made his way from the door to take up her hands and loosen them. “Bleeding, tears nor prayers is not going to better it.”
Elizabeth frowned, staring at her hands as her brother pried them apart, as he had done before. How often she fought with herself, how she did indeed despise who she was. “Do you hate me?” She asked him, tilting her chin up to see his face. “He knows. He knows…everything.” More than even Elijah currently knew.
Vind sat himself down, finally, dropping the cup onto the table and then his head into his hands, his thoughts were running wild. How had he forgotten? How different would it be if he had not? Would he have forgiven her? Would they be together by now? It mattered very little, she was engaged to be wed and Vindictus still preferred Elijah, for the moment, anyway. ‘I’m sure you can find a better way to comfort her.’ He said bitterly.
Elijah frowned at them both, each was determined to give him a headache. “I do not hate you.” It was physically impossible for him to do just that, and quite frankly he was offended that she asked in the first place. “Is it not better that he knows then not?” Here he was trying to be the reasonable one of the pair. “Why shall you enchant that teapot full?”
Elizabeth closed her eyes for a long moment, focusing only on her brother, his voice, his presence. “You will say nothing of what you know, Vindictus.” She said finally, her voice even and cool.
Vind gave an uninterested flick of his wand and did as he was told, slumping in his chair, ‘Oh, will I not? And what am I to gain?’ he spat, not looking at her
Elijah found himself lost now. Why could Vindictus not speak of what Elijah already knew? His eyes narrowed as he stole a glance at them both, then back and forth as if in attempt to deduce what was said. What she meant. “What prattle is this?”
Vind sighed heavily, sending another glare over to Elizabeth, and he shook his head. Whatever there had been was there no longer, whatever love they may have shared was long dead and buried, like that poor child, ‘She told me of her pregnancy, our child, the one that died thanks to a convenient cup of tea, she told me of the both of you.’
Elijah froze for lack of a better word but stammered. “Your child?” How was he supposed to process that? What was he supposed to think? He fell deaf at that point, and mentally retreated away.
Elizabeth stared blankly at her brother. “I was pregnant once. Barely. It was my baby. I wanted it…but it died. I killed it. But it was mine and I wanted it…” She was speaking in circles, past the point of hysteria now. “Now he tortures me with it. Get out. Both of you, get out.”
Vind made no move to leave, sipping at the tea again, he wondered if she still drank the same tea, if she could stomach the taste of it now, she must, if it was in here somewhere, he wondered a multitude of things as she sat there, hysterical. But he was calm, digging deeper and deeper into his mind, he wasn’t sure if he remembered or if he was creating new memories to match her words, ‘Have you nothing to say, Elijah?’
Elizabeth shot a glare at the man, calmly drinking tea. She stood, pulling away from Elijah, hell bent on killing Vindictus. “I told you to leave!” She slapped him, striking the cup from his hands, ready to strangle him. “Do not think I would not kill you…that would be an easy mistake to make.”
Vind sighed again, and though his cheek stung he stood, landing a back-handed slap against her own cheek with one hand, the other grasping his wand, pointing it straight at her, ‘A very easy mistake, indeed, Elizabeth, and you are so good at making mistakes.’ He dare not glance at Elijah. His eyes were welling up again, ‘Do not think you are the only one that feels a sense of loss here.’
Elijah heard them both speak but it did sound so very dull and far away. She had told them both to leave, but it seemed that neither man wanted to move. Yet he focused back enough to watch Elizabeth march over, her temper and boldness renewed, to smack Vindictus and the man pull out his wand. Elijah moved then to distance his sister from her….lover…late lover who the hell knew anymore, his own wand held tightly in his hand. So tight that his knuckles were turning white. Now he almost did feel bad for Vindictus. “And if I pity you, will you lower your wand?”
Elizabeth was staring, wide eyed, shocked into silence and thinking only of another sort of terrible curse Vindictus could place upon her in this moment. “Don’t…” She did not even know if her voice had been loud enough for either man to hear. “Please…”
Vind didn’t mean for it to happen, he hadn’t meant to hit her, or to draw his wand on her, he had only wanted to sit and to make sense of what he’d been told, but she’d come at him again, just as he didn’t mean to let those few, stray tears spill over as he raised his eyes heavenward. But, once again, he did as he was asked to do, shaky hands slipping the wand back into his pocket and, without a word, he sat himself down again, massaging the bright, red burns on his hands from the spilled tea.
Elijah sighed a little as Vindictus did put away his wand and sat down. That was a small relief. “Sit down, Elizabeth.” Elijah did not pocket his own instead slipped out his Handkerchief and with a fancy hand gesture a bit of water to moisten it. He tossed it at Vindictus so that the man would not look anymore pathetic.
Elizabeth simply sank to her knees, choosing to sit exactly where she had been standing. “What happens now…” It was more of a rhetorical question than anything, and she did not look at either Vindictus or Elijah.
Vind took the handkerchief and wiped at his face, lingering some on his eyes which, by now, must have been a brilliant red. His throat hurt and his body felt weak, and then he wrapped the fabric around his hand, cooling the burns, too lazy to use any spells, ‘Now. Now we get a bucket of wine and drink ourselves to sleep.’
Elijah did not know what to do with either of them let alone himself. Instead he gave a snort. “Opium, my friend, opium.”
Elizabeth did not feel whatever relief the two men seemed to be experiencing. Instead, she kept her gaze downward. “I must get ready for bed. Leave.”
Vind stood this time, and without a word, only a small noise of understanding, and agreement with Elijah, he left.
Elizabeth tilted her head up, watching Vindictus leave. “You too, Elijah.”
A Sliver of A Chance | Josephine & Adalhard | Autumn
Adalhard stood where he was as Josephine once more took steps ahead of him. He had remembered the last time he took the chance to follow her. It had seemed that he had bothered her in doing so, and which ever way she turned, she was doing so to loose her tail. The knight couldn’t help but smile though when she turned around and beckoned him to follow her....
——-
Why does that seem to trouble you, Josephine?
——-
If one is an astronomer, then it’s intensity is quite alarming.
What brings you here, knight? Do you not defeat your purpose being away from the castle?
——-
Yes, that may be so, but I am not as you can see.
I am here because I thought I’d come and see the woman who wanders in the forest alone once more. My purpose at the castle has already been dealt with.
——-
Simply because one wanders it does not mean that they are alone, lost, or seeking company.
——-
Yet here you are, leaving to be alone once more. Could I not accompany you for some time? I mean no harm.
——-
Oh but you already have accompanied me for some time, and it has expired as this moment has.
——-
What is it that makes you afraid to talk to me? Trust me when I say I will cause you no harm. I merely wish to know you better.
——-
Most persistant man, I have told you all you need to hear, I am my father’s daughter, I do not need to be hounded by everything else and now a knight. There is nothing more for me to tell you, contrary to what you do think.
——-
Josephine,
I do not mean to bother you to pester you. I will not deny that you have come to my thoughts more than once since our last meeting. I hope to know you for myself, as a man not a knight. Do see me as such, would you? My title holds far too much than I can carry sometimes.
——-
Why is it so very typical of man to chase what they cannot catch? You are no wolf, nor any other predator, it is best to pursue a game you are for more likely to catch. It matters not what I see you as, nor your title.
——-
There is no harm to you if I try, is there? I may not be a wolf or any other predator but I know my way about the game and though I may come in last, I have always found what I came looking for. Why not try something different? Give a man a chance? There is very little I can do that your father has not warned you about. I am sure nothing can come as a surprise to you anymore.
——-
She spun around very quickly and faced him, though she had done best to walk briskly—or at least as brisk as she could set a pace without beginning to move far too fast for a mere mortal—Adalhard kept up the pace.
He did have a great deal to ask of her, to let him in when she was inclined to be secretive, to give him a chance.Apparently the words no and or give up were not apart of his native dialect. “A chance, you say. Pray tell, why should I be kind enough to give you one?” Him, over anyone else? Really, Josephine? You ought to be far more clever then that. His scent was making her sick. Why him?
She awaited a justification to why it was necessary to give him this chance. What she ought to give him was a smack. Josephine was not commonly thought of as kind, and was very used not to be treated kindly, even more so when people had learned of her dark secret. “Here is your silver of a chance, Adalhard.”
——-
The way she walked was far faster than he had thought a woman her size could. Then again, plenty of women had seem to surprise him in the past weeks. He should be the last to seem astonished that someone of the ordinary was something more. He could tell that what he wanted from Josephine was just that.
But he stood quite still when she turned around quickly and faced him.“Because no one has seemed to give you one. I could come to hope that we can seek something in each other no other will bother to look for.” There was something about Josephine that made him think so. Though Adalhard was a man of honor and trust, not many thought of him as anything else but what his titles gave him. He had hoped that one day he would come to met someone who saw him as something more than just that.
Adalhard never thought much of a regret so as long as he tried to obtain what he was trying to get at. So as long as there he put effort, it was alright - all would be well in time. But if he never thought to give this a chance, an effort to make things work, than the man would be left standing there with wonders of ‘ifs’ and ‘why’s.’ Adalhard promised himself that he would not come to such questions in life so as long as he had a chance to find the answers he sought.
“I wish for you to come to trust me. Not every man is wicked as you have come to believe.”
——-
Josephine studied him intently after those words. “A nobel sort of thing to hope for.”
How it equated that giving him a chance was also one for herself had not occurred to Josephine. In fact, even now that Adalhard had said such a thing, she did not understand why he had made such a conclusion. She did have a few chances in her life, what Jo had done with such oppertunities was her own secret and certainly not a tale that she would speak of now. As she had said, this was simply a silver of opportunity that she had granted him now. If he wanted to squander the fact that Jo gave him a chance, then it was his mistake, of course it occurred to Josephine that at that rate there seemed no point of asking of that chance to begin with. Despite that, she could not claim to understand his logic at this point, and why he seemed so intent in this chase. Adalhard was no better equipped for it then he was the last meeting.
Why he wore such a distressed, seemingly genuine, sort of look bothered her just a little. How surprisingly candid, just as it was for him to say that he wanted her to trust him. That had as much of a likelihood as a sheep trusting a wolf. Whom now was the wolf, she could not say. “Ambitious.”What else was she to say? That that sounded a lost cause?
She laughed, “And where precisely was that implication that I do think such things?” Josephine arched a brow and could not help but be amused as it seemed a very strange idea to have read from her, and she was nearly certain that she had not left that to be implied. Unless he had inferred such a thing, then that was no fault of her own. Perhaps he read her all wrong.
The she-wolf was suddenly strangely coy, as if she had deemed it a worthy game provided she gave nothing too detailed about herself away. Let him think he had won and she took a step closer.”I do not think men folk as a pack to be wicked,and they do have their uses.” Her smile ought to have suggested that such uses were not as pure as one should have thought them.
——-
Was it? Was it the noble sort of thing to hope for? He had only thought that it was the right thing to hope for. Something to make everything all the better. Josephine’s eyes were looking down a narrow road where only person she could trust was herself in his thoughts. Maybe he could help her realize there were others there to help her.
“You are the one who says me to be a noble man.”
Why did Josephine continuously study him as if what he was saying, doing, was completely foreign to her – something new? He couldn’t have been the only gentleman out in the world, there had to be plenty other of his type that Josephine could have stumbled upon. Then again, he could be thinking too highly of man. Adalhard had the habit of seeing the best in people before changing his judgment. Even now he had hopped that the Queen would find some shed of light and change her mind about their kind. That this war would end before it was to start. Though in the last few days, that had become diminishing. He couldn’t come to believe that Josephine was as closed off as she made herself to be with him. There had to be a reason why the woman kept pushing him further away from finding out anything more.
Though some saw his blunt features as a disadvantage for the man, Adalhard saw no harm in hiding his expressions in the least. He was an honest man as the King has said once. There would be no reason for him to hide his feelings from anyone. Adalhard raised a brow nonetheless at her word. Was he? Ambitious? That was the first time anyone had ever thought to relate that world to the knight.
“You keep yourself guarded very well from anyone coming close, I can only come to understand that you do not trust easily and believe everyone, especially men, are here to harm you.”
How little Adalhard knew of Josephine and yet how accurate he spoke of those there to harm her without knowing. But of course, Adalhard could have read her completely wrong once more.
He did not move in the slightest as Josephine came a step closer, that smile on her lips as if she were playing some sort of game he was unaware of. Adalhard knew the turns and placements of the game, though he did not bother to play it the way they wanted him to. A faint grin came to his lips. “And what use have you for them?”
——-
“Surely then those at the castle are quite blind.” Blind as well as daft not to notice such a thing, as it was entirely apparent.
Jo continued to study him as she was testing to see if he were lying or not, quite frankly, she did not think it was wise to trust him though the knight claimed that he would cause her no harm. She did not believe Adalhard when he said such a thing, as it sounded so very eerily similar to lines that she heard once before, and certainly did not deem him worthy of her trust. The last man who had asked for such things, to know her, to have her trust him was not worth the effort, nor time, nor breath in the end and Josephine was herself, daft, to give all those things away so simply. Now she had risen the very walls about herself that Adalhard saw now, which, rightfully, kept him and all others such as him out. Castles had such fortifications, this should not be new to a knight.
“How clever of you,” Though she said those words, they did not necessarily sound complimentary—but in some very small, and minor way that she did not wish to confess— he was only a tad bit clever to have thought that.
Her smile did not falter at Adalhard’s, instead it simply grew wider, though he himself was coy to ask such a question, she did grow bolder still. One such as herself, played games with men, if they were daft enough to fall for them in the first place.“All what a virtuous man has no need or knowledge of if he is so willingly to die for the pure love of a woman and nothing else.” She substituted virtuous
——-
Her words completely went over his head, as he wasn’t uncertain what she had meant that those at the castle were blind. Then again, Adalhard could be seen as such when he could not come to understand how honorable and honest he was at times.
“A man needs to be clever if he is to survive on the battlefield.”
Though he wouldn’t say he was so, he had heard plenty of people call him just that. Clever. Clever to never step on anyone’s toes, to never say the wrong thing, and clever enough to never make unwanted enemies. Adalhard might not be the brightest, but he was smart where it mattered the most.
Adalhard pressed his brows together briefly as he questionable looked at Josephine. A virtuous man? Adalhard was such a thing as he was boring and taught to be one. To die for a woman’s love would be a thing he would do. Though he would die for a friend, his family, a King. There were plenty of reasons a virtuous man would die for. But for pure love has seemed to be the reason most honorable men would die for without question. Is this what Josephine saw use for in men? Of what she thought would become of him?
“And you deem that as foolish? A man, or so I, will die for what I love and wish to protect. It is the reason why I became a knight. Not because of the title but of the power to protect those I care for and the future I hope to see.”
Adalhard was as honest as he could be with her without ever having to think twice. Though it was never like him to lie about why he had become a knight or whom he was willing to protect.
——-
“Unless I am sorely mistaken, this is no battlefield.” The smell of blood, were it one, would be driving the she-wolf mad, as would the pitches in adrenaline and fear. A wolf thrived in fear. Even a knight had every reason to fear a wolf, to fear a pack. Fortunately, as she said, this was not said situation. She shook her head and, in a moment of being passive, downcast her eyes and smiled to herself,“This is simply where a woman has given a man a silver of a chance.”
What uses she found with was to manipulate them with a kind word, with a tone of her voice, a certain glance into doing such favors for her. Though she was plenty capable, of which Jo had stressed several times to this man, were they to compete among themselves for her affection and attention—which was never quite promised but out of arrogance far too many had assumed could be won with tests of brawn— then she had to worry about them less and less. Let them slay each other, men were animals in the hunt, she really did could did not care. What romantic notions knights held about the ideas of dying for a pure love, or even believing in a pure love as one that was within the realm of possibility Josephine did not agree upon.
“I deem it as your incentive, if you deem it worth to die for such causes, think it noble, or becoming or such things that I cannot comprehend and perhaps never will it still is your decision.” Such a decision was respectable, perhaps even moral, and what reservations or thoughts she had about it surely did not matter nor could change his opinion. “As it is your life to do what you see fit.”
She turned about again and took a few steps forward before she looked over her shoulder and invited him with a toss of her head. Had he noticed, it was seemingly going better now that Adalhard spoke more about himself then asking such questions of her.
——-
A faint smile forced its way onto Adalhard’s lips at Josephine’s words. If only it wasn’t. But living the life he did, it was constantly a battleground. This life he lived, there was no such thing as finding true and complete peace. There would always be a reason to keep one hand on his hilt. Physically it may not be, but there would always be reason to keep fighting. So as Adalhard saw the many reasons in front of him that he did, he would continue to fight in this on going war of life.
“It is more than I have asked. I can only hope you come to trust me in the time we know each other.”
The knight had taken notice that Josephine was hesitant in sharing information about herself, of having any questions regard her life kept away from their conversation. But he did not push it, nor would he any time soon. Adalhard knew that such topics, about one self, could be hard to come by, painful at times. All he had known was that her father had taught her well. In time, Adalhard had hopped that she would share something with him. His life was far too boring to keep her entertained and the knight hoped that Josephine would still find reason to keep his company. But there was one thing he was certain of. Josephine had spotted him as a foolish man for seeming to trust and fall to every word of hers. Even that smile she placed on her lips, Adalhard could not help but wish to see more of it. Though he wasn’t as bold as Godric to say such things quickly.
He nodded briefly at her words though. They all had a different sense of life, no one ever stood with the same thoughts of it. Even though Godric and Adalhard had similar thought, stood in on the same line, it did not prove them to think the same way of life.
Adalhard stood where he was as Josephine once more took steps ahead of him. He had remembered the last time he took the chance to follow her. It had seemed that he had bothered her in doing so, and which ever way she turned, she was doing so to loose her tail. The knight couldn’t help but smile though when she turned around and beckoned him to follow her.
A faint laugh escaped his lips as he placed his arm out for her to take. It was up to her if she wished to, Adalhard was simply being what she saw him as, a gentleman, a knight, an honorable man.
“I was under the impression that asking of his beliefs in a greater good and God would stir a spiritual awakening of sort.” Now Godric was aware that such understanding was a great deal to ask, even a great deal more to process but Lambert was to be a better man. “For that of our kin but for the king himself, he is of magic blood, did you sense it? I thought that it would be a moment of understanding.”
And in the distance, he took notice of a man with a red like brown curly hair and a dark mantle wrapped around his shoulders. He paused in his footsteps for a moment, uncertain if Helga had her friend that he would be arriving. He had hope so, as it was not fond of surprising someone like Godric who was skilled in not only a sword but a wand as well.
The look on his features probably meant more to Godric than he could come to explain. There came to be only two reasons as to why he had come back to Hogwarts He knew the dangers of being here, of what others would think if they were to find out. The last he wanted was the founders to be troubled with politics. But as one reason was to visit Helga on her request, this became the second. There were matters to discuss with Sir Godric Gryffindor. The knight that left an impression on the Polish man in their previous encounters. But to say that impression stayed the same now was something to be questioned.
He did his best to take a deep breath and have a smile come to his lips as he looked at the man before. “Sir Gryffindor.” Always polite with his words and greetings, Adalhard nodded to cast his presences before the man ran into him. Clearing his throat, the knight did his best to put aside the memory of a new friend, of Josephine. The smile that came to his lips next was thanks to the name that lingered in his thoughts. Though his features seemed to express as if he was baffled about it all, the smile spoke pleasant thoughts of his encounter.
“Just the man I came to speak with. May I have a moment of your time? I hope not to waste much of it. I do have to see myself to Helga before I return by nightfall. It concerns the King.”
—————
A great many things concerned Godric of late, which involved their King. One being that the man was of wizarding blood, not as potent or strong as himself or the Polish knight, but a wizard just the same. Another being how Godric had written the man an unsavory letter of late which the knight had not forgotten, but he faulted himself and only himself for that as Gryffindor knew, and always had, that he had too few instances of being graced with words or speech. Why it was so adamant that he, of the four, was ideal to pursue this thorny matter with their king still baffled Godric. Rowena or Salazar was a far better choice, being more skilled then he with a quill, Godric’s talents lay with a sword and wand! Or drinking.
His mood soured further with such a repetition that he had taken up since the last letter and carrying such a secret about. With such talents as those how was he to have a productive conversation with their king? How was Godric to convince King Lambert any more sincerely without betraying himself, or worse, his friends? The latest letter had a “proposition, and now the knight was going to discreetly meet the ruler who feared his own court. By his word, his honor and promise, Godric had not mentioned this to another living soul—which perhaps meant that he could converse with the dead on the matter— but the idea of it left him feeling raw and unnerved. What was he, seemingly now an unofficial representative of magic blood, to ask or to seek from the king? Once did not simply demand anything from royalty. Nor did one simply meet royalty at another location then court to have private conversations. Again, he was not fit for such a thing and that was a gross understatement.
The tension had creased his brows together but they did come momentarily unknitat the voice that called over, if Godric’s ears did not deceive him, he did know that voice. Gryffindor turned about, quite underdressed to meet a knight in full regalia, ”And you come on the king’s errand or your own, Sir?” Either way, seeing how this was one of the other parties mentioned in that secretive letter, Godric could speak to his fellow knight on the matter. Surely that was why Adalhard had left London?
Godric waved Adalhard over, “Come let us see some of the castle in this moment that such a conversation may take. You may begin with speaking of what weight does this looming conversation carry and you look as if you have seen a specter?” Up his brows went once more but not knit as tightly downward as they were before but in the opposite direction entirely.
They had met once or twice before, as most knights do, and on account of manners along with a mutual respect for each other conversed quite cordially. That was the ruse that was best to maintain for there was no want or need to confess that both were wizards, and under an invitation from a fellow friend Adalhard had been invited to Hogwarts, the Hogwarts that in part, though seemingly small, Godric had built. Only in a choice company could and would such a topic even be broached.
—————
There was a brief moment that passed by the two of them after Godric spoke his first few words. Adalhard could have come to believe that he had taken the man for a talk at the wrong time. Though he could not tell what his expression was from the distance, the knight was certain that the man was in deep thought just moments ago. Taking a deep breath, his lips pressed tightly together as he thought over his words briefly before speaking them. “I come here at a friend, Sir Gryffindor.” Though Adalhard was many titles, he had hoped that many saw him as just that, a friend. The way that Helga had seen him the first time they had met. Of course the two knights had very little reason to call each other ‘friends’ more along the lines of acquaintances because of their knighthood, but Adalhard had saw no reasoning in hating the man. Like said before to the King himself, Gryffindor was a man he respected.
“You should know as well, the only errands I run are the Duke’s.”
A faint smile came to his lips at the thought, hopping that the said man was off doing what he needed to be doing rather than gallivanting around with a known woman. Though Adalhard respected the King in all ways, he was not his errand boy. The King had someone else for such things. He kept the great man company when needed, but Adalhard was loyal to Duke Bernard and all of Poland. If he was not doing what needed to be done for Bernard, he was either training or keeping the King company as of late. For some reason he had gotten the trust of the King over the Queen far quicker than he could have ever imagined.
He moved only when he was motioned to join the man. Godric could have been far busier than Adalhard thought him to be, but he was at least lucky enough to get a few words with the man before he needed to depart back to London.“Yes, I do suppose my last visit gave me very little to see of the castle. You have done much of what I last saw.” Parts of the castle were completely built, the landscape was cleaner and more students seem to be walking about the grounds since he last came and declined the offer to join as a teacher for the school.
“Is that how I honestly look now?”
Adalhard cleared his thoughts to make everything on the surface seem as if there was nothing wrong at all. First they needed to speak of things that could ruin them all, then those of what his heart was trying to speak of. If it was one thing that he could count on Godric to be, it was honest. Though it to be bold at times, it was one of the many reasons the Gryffindor had gotten his name. Unfortunately he was far too bold in his letter to the King to his liking.
Taking a deep breath, Adalhard shook his head, concerned drowning his features briefly. “The King has come to liking my company as of recently. In doing so, I have come across the words of your letter to his grace. What have you said about our kind?” He paused in his steps, looking at the founder, carefully going about his words. “You have created a plague, Sir Gryffindor.”
The knight’s words to the King would slowly but surely spread in the great Lambert’s thoughts and kill anything that came to stop it.
—————
He smiled a little at the idea of having such a friend, as opposed to an acquaintance. Still, friend’s of Helga’s were friends to Godric. As such, the response was jovial, “Men ought to leave their errands and words to be sent by birds.” Gryffindor could not help but grumble.
Adalhard’s question in return sounded both curious and yet sheepish. As if he was truly so honest that he did not know what expression he did wear on his face. “It is but of the two of us, that is the better faring of moods.”
Though Godric did not recall when Adalhard had visited once before, he did nod his head.They had accomplished a bit more, and though he did still not know what else Rowena was drafting, he could only imagine it. She was brilliant and the designs for their castle were safe in her too competent hands. “Maid Ravenclaw has been hard at work crafting a castle to rival all others.” His spirit and toned lightned a bit, as if often did, when speaking of Rowena.
The knight had imagined that Adalhard had to have won some tokens of favor with the king to be the other in attendence who would go to this meeting in the turn of a moon. “Have you seen it?” A seemingly rhetorical question, a musing, that he had said aloud. His brows furrowed again.Why was such a correspondence left about to be read by anyone else then who it was intended for? Perhaps this gave a small hint to what the king had mentioned, that he hardly trusted those within his court? Despite the initial thought to believe such a thing, Godric knew what Helga spoke of Adalhard. The honest. That was a far more kind of a title then bold, and it had far more many positive implications. Bold suggested that Godric, in contrast, would be carried off by his emotions, his feelings. Impudent, brazen, brash were all words that by the same token, Godric thought applied to him just as well. It was far better to be honest, or fair, or shrewd then bold.
“Then there is no need to repeat what I did write, both the original letter and what it was enchanted to say afterwards. Surely you are a talented at spells yourself and could have removed it.” The letter was two part, one which spoke very broadly cordially and the other enchanted that the words would re-arrange themselves when cast in the proper light.
His frown returned, Godric had said nothing more then his hopes for the king to view these killings as unjust. That it was more widespread then anyone did realize and was not simply a matter for Malcolm of Scotland but for England as well. A rudy well mess Godric had made of that and it left his pride and confidence wounded. Not a soul he was to speak of such things to and yet he felt now almost compelled, he did flout the rules after all, to speak to someone about it. To vent and in turn to be reassured. To hear the words, the understanding and rhetoric of someone who was far more clever then he. Then further, what Godric so desperately wanted to hear, was another’s opinion on how he was to progress. This was a very dangerous path to tread alone, and Gryffindor was uncertain that despite what armor, what talents of swordplay he knew would be of any use here at all. What Godric wanted and needed to hear was how he to right his so very obvious wrongs. They left scathing wounds, and the letter in response was still stinging in his mind yet here was the lion, solitary and licking his own wounds.
“I had asked our king to few the recent burnings, the punishments of suspected wizards and witches, and insisted that it is not God’s way for man to murder one another.” How many had been tied to a stake and burned alive? Not many would acquire the yearning of the flames of such fires as Godric’s friend Wendelin had and few would learn the spell that made those flames ‘delightful’. How many others with their pockets lined with rocks and cast into the waters? Furthermore, how many more needed to die? There was no need for this shameless violence, and were a man of a royal house to be convinced of this, then surely the tide would be changed. His intentions and hopes had been both nobel yet naive. Could have Rowena not written the letter herself, signed his name upon it and sent it out that way? The results might have been far more favoring.
“These were my intentions, by my honest word. Yet if it has created a plague, as you say, then I have found another inadvertent talent of mine and equally, have discovered that I take as little liking to it like the others.” Gryffindor gave a deeply put upon sigh, although he had made such an effort to be a wizened older man worthy of all the praise that he heard of for founding Hogwarts, Godric hardly felt that man. Not with the way that Adalhard looked at him now, and Gryffindor felt himself sink a little lower, he was no better then an oaf with a wooden sword. What a laugh.
—————
“That is a possibility, but then we would all hide our faces to avoid speaking any truth and then where would that leave man?” Adalhard could have sent a letter to Godric as he had done with Helga week prior, but it would seem that neither one was well versed in such things. “Rest assure, Sir Gryffindor. I had come to miss your presences.” There lingered just the smallest of grins at the corner of his lips.
Though this was not the first time he was told that his expressions were as honest as his words. The King had said it once before. Maybe this had become the reason to why the man had come to trust him. Adalhard every practice in hiding secrets, but there was an art to keeping himself honest and doing so. He could only come to hope that no one would come about and finding out such things about him. Every wizard or witch had their secret, he rather keep his as such with the King and the Duke unlike the way Godric was waving around his wand in front of all of England. It was still to their advantage that the King had yet to fall to the people of England’s mercy. And from the looks of it, Lambert wouldn’t be doing so anytime soon. Though that did not mean he would fully come to understand them, of what Godric was saying.
But it was interesting in the least to see the way Godric’s mood had shifted, changed, in the second he had spoke of Rowena Ravenclaw. He had but seen her once, never spoken to her, though heard many great things from Helga herself. Still, this hardly seemed the time to be speaking of such things. Maybe they could fair to spend time after over drinks if time allowed.
Adalhard let the knight finish with what he wish to say before going about and interrupting. “Not quite. I had simply delivered it and taken notice of the seal. When speaking with the King, he did not clearly state was written in it, as he fears there are those in his court he cannot trust. Though I am not in such a standing with the King yet, I can only assume he was being careful with me as well. It is known to me that you have spoken about witches and wizards in a way.” Adalhard paused briefly, looking about the castle as he was distracted momentarily. It had been sometime since he had come to visit.
“You enchanted the words?”
The Polish knight had not gotten the chance to fully examine the letter, let alone look at it after it was read. Whatever happened to the letter, only the King knew. If it was still in his study or bedchambers, Adalhard did not know as he had not been in such places yet. He nodded though, scolding himself silently at missing an obvious spell that could have been done on the letter. But had the King known? He couldn’t have, could he? “What did your enchanted words spell, if you do not mind me asking?” If Adalhard knew, there might be some way to save what had been done. All he needed was time and the trust of the King.
The King, like the Duke, was a man of God. Something that Adalhard himself could not share at all with either one of them so publicly as well.
“Sir Gryffindor….” A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he shook his head. Might those be cruel words he had just shared with the knight? He should apologize in speaking so rash with the man who was known to be so bold. It was possibly because he had very little time to talk to the man who had become busy with the castle doings in itself. How lucky he was to find Godric now.
“I come to understand that you have not done so intentionally in speaking true words to the King. I do wish you had tread carefully in doing so.”
From the looks of it, it had seemed that Godric had mulled over his actions. Though Adalhard could simply be misreading it as such when it was truly for something else. “You are still a good man, Sir Gryffindor.”
—————
“It is a half though through idea, to be most frank, but from one aspect does sound appealing. Even after your argument.”
Gryffindor mused softly once more, “How strange it must be not to trust entirely those about you…” He trusted his friends, all of them, and could not envision a time when he did not do just that. “Oh yes, court life is so very dull in comparison is it not? A reason I do avoid it when I can.” The knight had become jovial and joking once more with a more hearty sort of smile. He had only gone back briefly for the tournament, and even then left as quickly as humanly possible to not raise the suspicions of the muggles. Once could only wonder how he faired so well in previous tournaments and yet done so poor, at least the first few days of the previous one. The secret, naturally, was magic. Yet not the sort envisioned. “Perchance reconsidering that invitation to the school?”
Godric did not mind the inquiry, particularly if asking such a thing lead to an open conversation of what to do afterwards. After all, Rowena and Salazar could not be found such. “What I have already told you.”
Yet he took a breath, and recounted the very first in a series of letters which did lead to the most current predicament, “My most kind and fair King,I beseech you, sire, to pass a low that will end the burning and otherwise inhuman murders of those accused of magical blood. By the will of God mere mortals are born with gifts and their murder does not right or correct God’s plan. As mere mortals we cannot attempt to ratify what has been laid before us. Instead, sire, to burn them at the stake only condemns our own souls for doing so. I beseech you further, sire, to look into this matter of magic more to discern that being born of magic is not being born the son or daughter of the devil himself. Your troubled knight, Godric Gryffindor. ”
As it was an entirely wordy thing to say, he did firmly close his mouth to collect his breath and wet his tongue following it. Such a thing he might not have been known to commit to memory as he was not necessarily one who could at a moment’s request, Rowena did such things with ease and grace, but Godric seldom did. He did wait a few moments for his fellow to process the words in their entirety after all it was a great deal that was spoken. Gryffindor did not see the purpose of shedding innocent blood, nor did he approve of murder, such violated his code of knighthood and surely did the same for Adalhard. Under their vows each was sworn to protect the interests of their kingdom, their crown and their people. There was no valor to be found in being a de facto executioner and no cloth could clean armor that was stained with innocent blood.
His eyes scrutinizedAdalhard in wait for the emotional response upon the other man’s face, although his fellow might have wished to hide such things, what Godric did want to hear and see was honesty. “I was under the impression that asking of his beliefs in a greater good and God would stir a spiritual awakening of sort.” Now Godric was aware that such understanding was a great deal to ask, even a great deal more to process but Lambert was to be a better man. “For that of our kin but for the king himself, he is of magic blood, did you sense it? I thought that it would be a moment of understanding.”
Adalhard sighed and begun too slowly as seemingly natural Godric quipped back quickly, “The sir is not entirely necessary.” They were one in the same on believing that one needed to earn such a title and now, Godric did not think himself deserving of it. He shook his head, a cross of a grimace and attempt at a smile upon his lips. A dangerous path this was and he seemingly was alone. The knight never faired well on his own, even as a child, and he did better in the company of others. What Gryffindor had realized was this: Adalhard came to speak of such things against better sense, if he was the single confident of the king for this upcoming visit, then this conversation and this very meeting was betraying that trust. Unless there was to be no conversation at all, but a warning, of which had already been given.“Why do I feel as if this path is the only one where wearing a suit of armor or carrying a sword is of little value or defense?”
—————
It could be strange to those who never were born into court and forced to stay. Godric had left and therefore left all those issues behind. Adalhard however was not as lucky to leave court. How could he do so when his childhood friend was there and needed him the most? But if one was to ask if Adalhard actually trusted someone, it would be a tough decision. It was not that Adalhard did not trust anyone. He had the utmost trust in the Duke. But to say if he trusted everyone at court, he would be counted as a fool. For the King himself, well that was an entirely different tale to tell. He could only assume that others in his standings felt the same about such things.
A smile came to his lips nonetheless though when Godric’s mood had lightened the slightest at the jest. A faint sigh escaped his lips though as the thought of taking up the offer to come to the school came up briefly. “If things were different in court, I would have found myself here sooner.” A smile showed to his lips but disappeared as quickly as it had come. Could he truly be dedicated to the school and it’s teachings? He was told that he would be a wonderful addition by Helga, but Adalhard never really saw himself anywhere than where he was now. He hadn’t thought much of what the future brought for himself, only to those around him.
His expression changed soon enough though. Concern creasing his brows. Is that what was said in the letter? It could have sounded harmless to one out of court but from the many days he spend in London and came to know of their culture, he was sure that going against God, his word, and ever mentioning the devil were topics that were treaded carefully about. Feeling his throat go dry momentarily, Adalhard did his best to look away from the other knight. He had just told the King of England to stop burning witch and wizards as they were not the devil’s child. Everything that was said was what Adalhard hopped as well but to go about in that manner is what worried him. They needed to ease the King into knowing about their kind, of what was possible and what was not.
A spiritual awaken was the last thing that could have been for the King. It seemed that the great Lambert was far more confused than willing to accept a new change. What were they to do with a troubled King as well?
“Yes, I have taken notice of it but unlike you I choose to not act upon it until I could come to know the King was willing to accept it. I am afraid the Queen’s influence is stronger than either of us could have imagined.”
It was strange how closely they became aware of such things as titles. Just moments ago he was speaking to Josephine of such things and how he did not deserve the title unless he had proven otherwise. Godric seem to believe the same. The two were similar in that sense.
“I could only hope that one day we can live in peace with our secret. But so as long as the Queen reins with words against our kind, such hope is belittled.”
A heavy sigh escaped his lips at the words.
“Because it is far beyond simply knowing the methods of wielding a sword.” Adalhard never enjoyed speaking of such things so openly. He had never before since he decided to take his own path from his family. His father was adamant on him learning to keep his secret as just that, a secret and away from court. He had done so for many years. Though here he was speaking of what he hopped to never do so with the man who started it all himself. He licked his lips, glancing over at Godric in thought. “I fear that we are two of very few that will truly understand the consequences of what is to come.”And such things made Adalhard fear what war he would be fighting, of where he would be standing. Surely Godric felt the same as he too took an oath as a knight.
—————
“A shame, ” No one else had declined an invitation to the school.
That was not nearly the look Godric had anticipated nor wanted to say upon Adalhard’s face as the entire contents of the letter were shared. Their king had only stressed that the last letter could not be shared, he had not said that the previous letters were private. Even then, now Godric did regret all the letters even more so now.
“It is written so very plainly, I do not wish anyone else to notice such a thing….” His voice and thoughts wandered again, as he mused aloud again, “A cloaking spell for the King of England?” Bolder even still! Lambert could not except being a wizard as easily as he could his newly English name and religion, and asking him to do so flat out quickly would certainly bring trouble as well as spawn an identity crisis. Even to Godric that was ambitious, but he did hope at one point—hopefully sooner rather then later for their own safety— the king could be told such things. Oh but Adalhard had in fact noticed, sensed, that Lambert was of magic blood. There was no saying who would notice such a thing next, who they were in court, how close they were to the King’s—or worse the Queen’s— ear. This in and of itself felt dangerous, and Godric did not wish to find such a thing out.
The Queen was doing far more then belittling and it was naive to think it simply as that. What she was doing was precisely this : setting a dangerous precedent for how to treat ‘their lot’. It validated and approved of shameless murders. This was why Godric so very desperately wanted to sway, or at least subtly sway the king into believing that witches and wizards were not demons. If there was a demon in Britannia then it was not those who Emma accused but the Queen herself, but Godric knew that was far too bold of a thing to say, “That would be a joyous day when it does happen. Yet she will fight to keep her reign, even though her hands are already quite bloodied.” If only they could convince the king to interject on their behalf. Emma might have had a more rightful claim at the throne of England being the land of her birth but a queen did loose her stake at such things at her marriage, among other things.
“Even then, you must not loose hope, good sir.”
Every action had its consequence, and of this the knight was very well learned of, no stone could be cast at a pool of water without a splash or ripple. This was no matter to take lightly and a reason why he had been so fierce to chide, mock and berate himself—which was hardly new tactic,for having made an idiot of the letters. There was no time for jest or games, it required a steely sort of reserve which Godric seldom used being so very crass and in this instance any steps, either forward or backwards, would have many a repercussion both now then, regretfully, in the years to come. The pang of guilt and impotence returned which felt hightened after what Adalhard spoke of. “I fear that we are two of very few that will truly understand the consequences of what is to come.” That and perhaps the king, yet if he did not know of such atrocities that happened beyond the palace walls and was so easily offended at such a idea, then one could not place that much responsibility with him. Of the two of them it seemed that it was a common placed fear, then, for Godric thought the same which was another point to fret over as he gave a very curt nod.
Them two, hardly the persons to speak for the rest of wizarding kind as between them they had more parallels then differences, and could not possibley speak to encompass everyone.“And that, Sir Krohl, is a very sad state of affairs to be interpreted as so.” His reply had been both candid then quick, and afterwards Godric found himself frowning further. It should not be so.
—————
Adalhard made the slightest of disappointed faces before letting it disappear. Helga had said the same. Though Adalhard could have done plenty at the school, he was needed at court with Bernard. Who knew what trouble his friend would get into if he was not with him.
Though the look on his features was not something that the lion knight wanted to see of him, it was all that he could give the man. Adalhard did not have the slightest idea he had written it in such plain terms as he had. Possibly one of the other founders could have done better with words. Though he did not know Rowena well enough as the other three, Adalhard knew of her talent, of her fluent words to one’s heart. But the thought escaped his mind as soon as it had gotten there.
Even if Godric spoke of how honest Adalhard’s expressions were to his words, especially as the man never bothered to hide it among friends, the lion knight was too a man to take notice how bothered he could be about something. Was he thinking about the letters he sent to the king still? He has spoken of how he regretting doing so, of how he could have said it in kinder terms. Though Adalhard knew there was very little they could do to undo the damage that was made. Licking his lip, he simply shook his head briefly. If only Adalhard had the right words to help Godric.
But the Queen - how truthfully Godric spoke of her. Adalhard hadn’t gotten the chance to say such things in court, not since he was surrounded by the Queen’s spies. It was not that he was a coward to go against the Queen, to stand up for himself and those of his kin, but he was smart enough to understand the consequences of those actions that stopped him from acting so.
Though would he tell Godric? Could he? Of his secrets and the strings he pulled at temptation? It was hard to protect those whom needed to be in secret without having been looked at twice. Magic was the only source he could come to trust that would help aid in such a situation. Though Adalhard was not always proud of what spells he used, he knew it must be done in order to keep things the way they were.
But to keep hope was far harder than he had ever thought. The Polish knight could have said such words easily many years ago when he was a naive boy, but times were hard, and hope was starting to show as a small star in the far distant sky one would never be able to reach.
Taking a deep breath, Adalhard looked to the man beside him, getting down to the matter at hand finally. He knew there was nothing he could do now that either of them would like to change what was to happen. “Godric, when the King arrives, I must advice you to keep things in order. It would not be wise to have the man frighten before the two of you can privately discuss the matter. As he does not know I am of magic blood, he will not invite me to listen in, nor will he come to believe I know what this meeting is about.”
—————
He had seen that look Adalhard had given, and Godric feared that his joke was misinterpreted. An invitation his fellow knight had been sent, but Godric was not one to berate if Sir Krohl believed that at the court he was answering a better, higher calling. Teaching was not necessarily a profession any man or woman could simply take up, and for many days before his own first lesson, Godric had wondered if he was ready for such an undertaking. ”Fret not, it is jest.” He added quicker still, to avoid Adalhard potentially feeling guilty.
Both men grew quiet as they descended down slightly downhill about the outer wall of the castle, and Godric wanted to believe that it was done so out of common sense. To keep a regular breathing and not because Adalhard had realized that Godric had dug his own grave with the letter. Yet in the silence, and in Godric’s own doubt, he began to think once more that he did precisely that. ‘And so here marks the very colored end of a brash knight with far too many lofty ideas and a tongue that learned far too late to be tamed,’ He chided himself still.
Godric broke the silence that he could not stand, “Gryffindor tower, as they call it.” He gestured in a nonchalant manner to the seven story tall tower with a hand.
“Yes of course.” Truth be told, Godric only did well with a certain amount and degree of order as he was far too inclined to break any rules were they in need of breaking for something he deemed a higher calling, but this did make plenty of sense. One, Gryffindor did not wish to frighten King Lambert, although the knight doubted a former viking took to frightening easily, into easily dismissing whatever it was to be said, which Godric had yet to even decide upon, and ultimately make an unfortunate ruling on the matter. Two, the knight would loose all his credibility—and far worse, much worse then a simple loss of pride or stature—, if he were to either confess to being a wizard then further, confess that Lambert was one as well.
“Again, Sir Krohl, it is not my intensions to betray either cause, though, to be most honest it is rather difficult to be upon the dividing line, knighthood or magic in the most basic of terms, being pulled in either direction.” Each had taken the same vows, sworn to the kingdom, the king, yet whose interest was supposed to “trump” now? Moral interest or personal interest?
—————
Though it had been a jest then, Adalhard hadn’t thought of it much of one, especially as other thoughts concerned him. He sighed heavily, trying to place a smile to his lips but failing to hold it for more than a minute. The silence that followed quickly after them was nothing that Adalhard intended to break. He took a long glance at the land before him and of the castle that was created by four of the bravest people he knew. His eyes shifted to the tower Godric pointed out, a curious grin forming at his lips for the time being.
It was soon replaced by a relieved sigh as Godric agreed with what he had requested of the meeting. So he would watch his words this time, he trust the man enough to not think twice about it.
And so Godric had caught him in that sense as well. How many nights had he loss sleep thinking about such a thing? If what he was doing was right? And if so, was it right for his own behalf or that of what was expected of him to do as a knight? To be a knight was a choice. To be a wizard was a birthright, a calling sort to say. There wasn’t much of a choice to decline. Though Adalhard never thought about giving his magic, nor did he ever want to lose his title as a knight and help those in need. He had worked hard for the latter of the two, especially as he had stripped his title his family name had given him in order to regain it on a more noble stand.
A heavy sigh escaped his lips, brows furring and concern coming across his features once more. If he spoke with Godric more often, he had a feeling that he would be likely to form wrinkles far quicker than he could have imagine to do so. “How could one man choose between such worlds?” Both to Adalhard gave him power to protect those who could not. Though being a knight made him loyal to the court mostly, he choose to be one in order to save those who did not have the power to do so themselves.
His eyes went quickly to the tall towers once more, one of them Godric pointing out was named after him. “Maybe I should consider staying if a corridor was named after me. What do you think, Sir Gryffindor?” If only he could make their conversation take a turn to when Godric had jested him before, they could leave in good feelings.
—————
Godric wished that not every conversation that he had of late would be so heavily occupied with such hard, forced frowns, such put-upon sighing. In many respects, he did miss the nativity, the ignorance that he had known prior to becoming a founder. Such conversations were much easier then, the dreams were far easier to obtain, and he only disappointed himself. That was quite different now. There were many persons to offend, many to displease, and far too many’s fate in the balance. “He cannot select one over the other without offending any party, and it is seemingly impossible to pick one or the other when he has each foot firmly set in both.” That did mean when his fellow knight would return to London, Godric would be once again be left with a decision to make, and this one like the other, he would have to make it on his own. Each were bound to each respective location, the magic world, and to the world they swore lofty promises in their youth. Such conversation made him feel heavy and burdened, formed far too many wrinkles on his face as it did now for Adalhard. Gryffindor shook his head and the thoughts away as well.
Stay at Hogwarts and be forever immortalized? That did have an appeal for some, did it not? The same sort of appeal that knighthood had to the such persons, as knighthood was, in a sense, also been immortalized. Though one’s body would depart, their legacy would remain, forever etched upon a coat of arms. Godric himself felt very strange having one of the taller towers named after him, he had even said in jest that it was compensation, but he was always so very willing to to mock himself. ”Krohl hallway…? Krohl corridor….? The latter sounds better.”
Never has time seemed to escape me until now. I send this letter to inform you about my whereabouts, knowing very well that you tend to worry if you do not hear from your friends first hand from when you last saw them.
I have left Poland to follow the Duke to London to visit his family. By all means, I was against leaving with so much work to complete, but the Duke tends to do what best gets me into a handful of trouble. Even at this moment I cannot tell you where he is or what he is doing, as he has escaped my grasp. I can only hope that a friend is in his presence as I always hope one is in yours.
Spending time with his family is little trouble for me as I have noticed. Though my lies drown me further in helping the Duke when he wishes to do as he please, the Kind and Queen have become familiar with my presences. I have known the King longer than the Queen, but as the Queen is now with child, I have been keeping an eye on the woman from afar. I can only wish that Poland and England stay on good terms for my friend, my brother. But even family can bring out the worst in us I fear.
I do hope you are well though, Helga. I have not forgotten about you nor our friendship. I have simply become busy in my duties as a knight, adviser, and friend to the Duke.
Do give my regards to Salazar, Godric and Rowena. I wish them well.
Serdecznie,
Adalhard Krol
—————
Our Dearest Sir Adalhard,
I was so delighted to receive your letter and hear that you are doing well; I hope mine finds you well and not yet run too ragged by the Duke, nor, I hope, your Queen. It brings me much gladness to hear how comfortable you find your position with the Duke, though I am sorry for the difficulty the necessary lies to His Grace and Their Majesties cause; I have heard his Grace, though uncommonly kind for one of the nobility, is easily alarmed by anything outside the usual, and I can appreciate your tenuous position in service to the Queen. In regards to them both, my wishes are with yours that England and Poland remain only on the friendliest and most amicable of terms.
I have passed your regards to the others, and they send the same in reply, most fondly.
It has been far too long since your person has graced our halls. I would enjoy seeing you, as I know the rest and especially Salazar would, though you know he would never write to say so—your company would be a most welcome refreshment, should you ever find yourself spare for an evening. I realize this to be unlikely at present, but please do consider a visit to us for the feast at Samhain, if you are able—though you are of course most welcome at any time.
I assume that as you are surely traveling in the Muggle fashion alongside His Grace, you are still en route; I have enclosed a batch of hais* (I discovered the recipe during our travels in the East)—they keep well on journeys—and some gingerbread for good measure.
Keep well, and do at least send a note letting me know that you have arrived safely yn Llundain and all is well.
With great affection,
Helga
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*hais - lightly sweetened balls made of sugared dates, ground nuts, finely crumbled bread, and butter or sesame oil; excellent for travelers and soldiers as they keep well
————————-—————
My Dearest Helga,
Your letter has found me without any trouble as has your package. I cannot thank you enough for what you have sent me. Though I may think it is to my death. A knight should not be drowning himself in sweets given to him by a dear friend. If I do not watch myself, I will have a heavier load to carry on me that is not my armor. Though I must admit, it would be worth it all. Your treats are unlike any other’s, even the cooks here could not make them as sweet as you do.
Though I do keep my distance from her majesty, her child is doing well from what they say. His Grace however has come to liking my company, which frightens and comforts me both the same. One can never know what truly is in the King’s mind. Both King and Queen are alarmed with what they cannot explain with God. I have heard Godric has said some unusual words to the King recently and I hope to visit the knight with a few words of my own.
But I will send them your wishes nonetheless, Helga.
I am sure that Salazar is locked in his dungeon writing letters to me as we speak to later burn. Helga, you are sweet to say that he thinks of me as much as you do but we both know the man. A friend he still is though and I will do my best to come visit you both as soon as I get the chance and grace the halls with my presences if you must require me to do so.
I have arrived in London with very little trouble. Then again, wizards tend to have less trouble in traveling than muggles, if you remember. I know I am not a man that gets many laughs but I do hope that had given you at least a smile. Dare I say that I have almost forgotten how it felt to see your gentle smile.
Though I do travel along the Duke and the King (whenever they need me) in such a fashion. Even as a knight I cannot go long days riding a horse. I would rather travel with my skills as a wizard more than anything but we both know how dangerous that is during this time.
Once more, I cannot thank you enough for your gift. I could have only hoped it lasted longer than a day.
Letters with the King | Lambert & Godric | After the Tournament
I hope that we shall be able to talk freely when away from the sneaky eyes and prodding noses of the London court, you make well to stay away from it, I can only imagine the damage it could do to one’s personality, it seems there is little more than fathers wanting to wed their daughters, Lords and Ladies wanting more land than they know what to do with and a ridiculous amount of well-wishers for my lady wife who would no doubt jump at the chance to be the one to put us both in our graves.
To the vigorous knight and noble friend, Sir Godric, of Wild Moor, I send my fondest greetings, and hope all is well in the North.
My congratulations on your triumphant win at the tourney, and your placing in the other events, I was cheering you on. I would very much like for you to grace us with your presence at court soon enough, the halls are horribly empty without our Lords and Knights present. Be certain to bring Sir Scrimgeour along, too, he is an excellent fighter.
Though I hear you are taking residence in Scotland, not one person seems to be able to tell me where, would you be so kind? I should like to make a stop to see you should I spare the time upon visiting the King of Scots.
Yours,
King Lambert.
______
Were the letter to be read aloud, or perchance by those whom it was not intended for, it would read as a polite letter.
Sir Scrimgeour and myself would be most honored to return to London, there is no greater of an honor then to be summoned by the king.
Scotland has been the lands which I returned home to ever since a boy, it is home. In regards to the name, is a small and developing town, sire, without a name to it as it is in the lands which are still wild and free. The lands are rich but with many a foreign, still quite north of Dunr.
Your most humble servent,
Godric Gryffindor
Yet when it was viewed by the king, and the king himself, the letter would alter itself.
My most kind and fair King,
I beseech you, sire, to pass a low that will end the burning and otherwise inhuman murders of those accused of magical blood.
By the will of God mere mortals are born with gifts and their murder does not right or correct God’s plan. As mere mortals we cannot attempt to ratify what has been laid before us. Instead, sire, to burn them at the stake only condemns our own souls for doing so.
I beseech you further, sire, to look into this matter of magic more to discern that being born of magic is not being born the son or daughter of the devil himself.
Your troubled knight,
Godric Gryffindor
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He pressed his lips thin as he read the note and snatched up the quill, his handwriting far less neat than it had been before, his irritation showing through.
A commendable feat to be sure, Sir Godric. I fear you assume that I do not know of the goings on outside the walls of my castle, as if I am blind to the world which, I assure you, I am not. While I had not known of the things you have mentioned, as said, I will look into it and do what I can to ensure the safety of my people.
King Lambert
______
Most honorable King,
It was not my intentions to imply that you , sir, are unaware of what activity happens in London. Forgive me, my lord, for this matter is one that has taken quite a personal meaning in my mind and heart, as such it is exceptionally difficult to speak as coherently or as delicately as such matter in your most esteemed audience requires. My short comings have always consisted of brashness and the inability to properly pen my thoughts. I ask your forgiveness.
In my travels under the mantle and order of the realm, I have seen that this most discerning matter which those accused of magic blood have faced. It is not a matter that concerns Scotland herself, or London herself, but is wide spread through the lands.
These persons know no peace. It is a hope of mine that under your kind eyes and reign, my king, that London and her lands can begin a new order regarding their treatment. Gone are the wars of the classes that our forefathers knew, in it’s stead a war that pits man against men. These persons who are accused of being demons are as mortal, as much of men as either you, wise king, or myself.
Your most troubled servant,
Godric Gryffindor
______
To the great and most victorious Sir Godric Gryffindor.
I write to you in regard to topics previously discussed. Though it may pain me to say, but it must be said, I hold very little trust for the men at my court and will not bestow these words upon any other, and I expect of you to do the same. In a turn of the moon, a dear friend of mine, Dunstan of Morley, will host us in his humble halls, at Morely in Yorkshire. I shall travel with one man, Sir Aldahard of Krol, but he shall leave us upon arrival. Both he and Dunstan are reputable, trustworthy men, and I hope you prove to be the same.
Lambert, by the grace of God, King of England, Denmark, Norway and—the good parts of—Sweden.
______
To the most excellent, honorable and wise king of all Britannia, nay the modern world, King Lambert:
My word is that of any other knight, my bond and promise. These are the oaths I swore to those years ago, as I swore my loyalty to our empire and you, my king. Of these matters I shall not speak to another soul. Upon my honor I do swear it.
The moon cannot turn any quicker, and I cannot imagine any better company then yours, sire. I pray for your safe travel and that of your company.
Your most humble servent,
______
What an honour to be flattered so greatly by one such as yourself, sir, a tale I shall tell my children’s children and theirs in return—the great Sir Godric Gryffindor has sworn I am the best King in all the world.
I hope that we shall be able to talk freely when away from the sneaky eyes and prodding noses of the London court, you make well to stay away from it, I can only imagine the damage it could do to one’s personality, it seems there is little more than fathers wanting to wed their daughters, Lords and Ladies wanting more land than they know what to do with and a ridiculous amount of well-wishers for my lady wife who would no doubt jump at the chance to be the one to put us both in our graves.
Is it different in Scotland? Perhaps Malcolm and I should arrange a trade, though I’m unsure I could see myself amongst those lot, the English are hard enough to understand at times.
Yorkshire is a quiet place, it should do well, an abundance of pork and apples, if those prove to be as good as your honour then an almighty feast we shall have.
Regards, Lambert, by the grace of God, King of England, Denmark, Norway and—the good parts of—Sweden.
PostScript - Send my regards to the others.
______
To our most jovial King Lambert,
A tale spoken by a king rings the truest and is better then any bard and any knight can hope for. Yet I do politley disagree, sir, it is I who should be flattered.
I cannot directly compare the land of my birth, England and her fineries, to that of Scotland, which I have come to regard as my second home. Having been reared many years in both lands I would be a terrible source to make such comparisons being emotionally attached to both, nor do I wish to offend the Scots who I think of as family, by drawing such conclusions.
Without offending either parties, I can only simply say that it is as different as it is similar. I fear that such overzealous fathers are present in every land, and every culture and there is no yet conceivable way of eluding them, particularly when one is as good of a match as you are, sire.
By your word and judgement I am entirely trusting of. If Yorkshire bodes such things, then it is a blessing and a much needed physical, as well as dietary, escape. Even you with your ancestry would not take well to the popular Scottish meal of Hagus, to save your own stomach, I shall not speak of what this “delicacy” consists of.
Never Cry Wolf | Adalhard and Josephine | September
“But where would be the fun in that, good sir? Now you my craft a tale when you leave of how you narrowly missed being swayed by the fae and other such forces in the dark forest.” She flashed a wry smile, very much aware that by her stature and features she too could be a fae and mortal men knew better to mix with such creatures.“That is a finer tale to weave up at the castle and you are better off treading that path of light, gentle knight.”
As Helga request, Adalhard would visit Hogwarts this month. He had spoken with the Duke about going out on an expedition North of where they were to deal with some ‘work’ and confront some ‘issues’ that had arisen since their arrival. Since he knew that Bernard was spending his time with a new lady at his side, Qwara, he thought it the best time to leave the man to get visit the place he wish he could call home. It was easily done and no suspicion was brought forward.
Saddling up his stead, he came into the cool air, looking around at the guards walking past. Adalhard gave a brief smile to a few of them before he pulled himself upon the horse and rode off. He road to the outskirts of the city, finding a small farm away from the roads. With as little as a few gold coins and a charming smile, the knight’s horse had been put in the stable along with a few of his riding equipment. He left his armor on though as he headed out towards the forest a mile or so away, making sure he was not being followed.
Letting his cloak finally settle behind him, Adalhard pulled the hood over and closed his eyes, picturing the forest on the outskirts of the castle. With the next breath, he had disappeared in a smoke of black before appearing quietly in a new forest. He would be in and out before anyone knew he had gone. He simply needed to speak with Godric Gryffindor on the King’s arrival a little more than a week from now.
Adalhard’s eyes quickly opened to gaze around the area near him, his left hand rest on the hilt of his sword as the other ready to pull his wand out from under his armored sleeve. No one in sight. No one had seen him apparate into the forest thankfully. If it was one thing he was good at in dealing with magic, it was apparition. Helga had first invited him to the school to teach the skill to some of the students willing to learn, but Adalhard declined due to his duty as a knight to the Duke. Taking a deep breath, he took a step forward, the leaves breaking underneath. He raised his brow though, stopping his track when he heard an echo movement.
Pulling his sword out slowly, he turned,
“Who goes there?”
_______
Immediately the she-wolf stilled, it was the only reaction to responde with when one had been heard. and her pray slightly further ahead then the traveler—for lack of a better word— bolted. The buck had been startled by the quite sudden pop, Jo had seen it’s head pop up, it’s ears dart backwards. Leaves crushed under its hooves and fear was in its eyes, and it was plenty justified. Now it was in the presence of not only herself, but the blonde who had immediately drawn his weapon, a fancy bit of metal a far cry from the crude metal designs she was used to. Still, the unsheathing of a sword was a distinctive noise, followed by his voice with its distinctive accent to it and it was one that she could not place being. It was plenty to further scare away the buck and the forest took a collective breath of silence, while Jo’s quarry bolted with a glimmer of its white tail.
A lost cause it was, seeing how the she-wolf would not run after it now, not with the stranger there just ahead, and the brunette thought of many a foul word directed at him. Yet he was the new game, was he not? What chance she had lost with the buck, luck still favored her now. She was downwind, as a good hunter always was, within the gloomy shadows with her dark garb. In contrast, it was he, despite the sword, who was at a disadvantage. He was bathed in that bright light that parted through the trees precisely where he stood, passing through his cloak and catching the glimmer beneath it. As if she needed any other further proof that he was not from here at all, but from lands beyond, this man of sunlight.
Oh but she was never swayed by such sights, by such “visions” as others might call them. Jo narrowed her eyes suspiciously, as the noises of the birds overhead resumed Now it was common sense, men folk did not simply appear with a slight pop, obviously he was of magic. Perhaps a friend to the castle, and would have word with what kept dear Eufeme there. It was so frightfully dull without her, but if Josephine had learned anything at all, it was this : chains did not bind her kinfolk, blood of wolf. Enchanted or not they were no match for the strength of a beast, the mind of a man, and it was the she-wolves, who were always far more clever.
Josephine would and could make do with the present situation. She drew down the hood of her kinsale and stepped into the light to reveal herself with all the grace of an actor stepping upon a stage. “A lady, and nothing more. If you are a good knight, sir, you would sheath your sword.”
_______
Adalhard paused in his thoughts as he turned the moment he heard footsteps come towards him. Basing everything on nothing but instinct now, the man kept his guard up at the distant figure he saw coming forth. Whomever they were, they were either from the castle or around the grounds. Possible even living here would be another explanation. Still. Adalhard would not waste time in believing that they would be on his side because they may know the founders. From living on the battlefield and that in standings of royals most of his life, he understood people did the unexpected more often than others would ever recognize.
He looked into the darkness of the trees before he noticed a slender woman come from the shadows. Instantly, the blonde knight’s posture changed, the sword’s end finding itself aiming to the ground. With dark brown locks coming over her shoulders and green eyes curiously looking at him, Adalhard couldn’t help but ease his posture briefly. A lady she was. Adalhard glanced behind her quickly, then around him once more casually before he sheathed his sword.
“Forgive me, my lady but one can never trust anyone in this forest. I’ve had plenty of experiences to tell me so.”
A small smile formed on his lips as he raised his hands to show no other weapon, his wand itself hidden under his arms armor. Letting his hands drop to his side, Adalhard took a step away from the ray of light that had captured him, giving him the warmth of the sun from the chill of the fall season.“Might I ask why a lady had found herself in the forest alone? It is not everyday that I see one unaccompanied.”And so, in a dangerous forest at that. He remembered Salazar telling him of the creatures they had brought to the school for the students to study.
_______
“A lady my sex might have proclaimed me, but I am my father’s daughter, and I can handle myself.” Her words were softer, silken, the voice she used with men. With her practice it rose and fell sweetly with a coy smile upon her lips. It had been quite some time, by her count, that she had seen a man. The she-wolf had yet to meet this Lyle, and was admittedly unenthusiastic about it. One did not take a mated wolf, it was a coupling for life and were Josephine still as young and naive as Effie, she might have thought such a thing the epitome of romantic. An eternal, unbreakable love, but Jo was much older then the Alpha female and far more embittered then she would care to admit. She doubted if such things as pure as untouchable as love could exist in this world at all.
With a slight rustle from the trail of her emerald green outer garment, she began a bold and all too predatory circle about the knight. He was taller then she, as most others were for Jo was not blessed with height, and though clad in armor, built as a knight. Or at least as the knights in the tales she was told as a child were. Radient, valiant things, bond of honor, lofty ideals and equally lofty promises. Part of her wondered if the knight before her was real at all, or if her mind and the other magical creatures in the forest were against her.
Humber was a land disgraced and left to rot in the shadows of contempt, such persons did not travel through their lands. Despite her initial and all too well hidden uncertainty of the man, her other sharpened senses compensated. It was another human being, those wolf ears said, as Jo noted the pounding of his heart. He smelt different, not of pine, Earth, of the crisp Scottish winds, but something different. Musk and sweet, slightly perfumed, of parchment, rich smelling wines and other scents her mind could not place. Her smile drew into a wider, and as far as she was concerned a perfectly dimpled one, “Forgive me, I have not met a knight before…” Her pink lips parted as she smiled sincerely, clearly quite pleased with her assessment of the knight. She then raised a curved brow, “Is this not where you, out of a moral code of chivalry, bow and take my hand?”
_______
Adalhard couldn’t help but give a grin at the corner of his lips at the woman before him. How he had heard such words before, or very close relating to from another woman his Duke had gotten comfortable with. These strange women, away from London and Poland, gave the aura that they are far more capable than what society labels them as. It was refreshing to be around them honestly. Though he wondered if they ever saw a man of his sorts or found their way around his kind. He would not wish to say that he was like every other man in the world, but different, as they were different from the many ladies he spoke with daily.
“Well then your father has raised you well and I can hope that he is a proud in seeing the woman before him charge on forward proving those around her different.”
Because he could only assume that she was not the sort to find and follow rules all the time if she was here alone in the forest. Speaking of which, his question had gone unanswered. Not wanting to alarm the woman for any reason, he let the question go. Adalhard raised his brow in curiosity though when he watched her take the first step and then a few more following slowly after, circling around him as if he was some sort of prey of hers or was meant to be drawn in some way.
He could say that it was uncomfortable to be watched in such a way, but something about it was alluring him to the woman. Was this how women felt when men from across the tavern watched them? Disgraceful. He was only more so thanking his mother for teaching him otherwise.“In a matter of minutes you have discovered I am a knight? Impressive.”This had peeked his interest further more of the woman before him. How had she known if she had never met one before? Yes he wore some of his armor as he was only here for a day or half, but any man could be found in armor.
With a humorous smile on his lips, he turned to face her at her request.“Is that what is said about a knight?”He knew that a knight could mean many things. But days go by where he has to met another gentleman and knight as one. Walking over towards the other, he took her hand gently, kissing the bridge of her knuckles.“There are very few of us left that still uphold that honor, my lady.”With his knees slightly bent still, he looked up at the woman, his eyes drawn to hers momentarily in the silence.“I go by Adalhard. Might I ask of your name?”Having his full name being said would be careless of him.
_______
“I suppose he is, I do not speak for the dead.” Her tone lightened out of respect and for a second with a silent prayer to the father she had known. Long dead was he, but hopefully, just as proud as this knight thought him to be. How kind of a perfect stranger.
Men seldom disliked being tip-toed about, eyed as if they were on display, to Josephine it seemed only a polite turn of the tables. As it was done to her, and all others of her sex for no apparent reason she saw no qualms with returning such a ‘kind’ gesture. Yet he did nothing more then arch a brow and eye her questioningly as she turned back to face him.
“That I have, but I am rather clever. Sellswords and thieves dress far more humbly, and if you were either peddled the armor for a pretty coin, or if you wore it still—which would be doubtful as both persons live and breath by money—it would not fit you. Instead it fits as if it were cast for you.” She knew not of knights, but plenty of swordplay, and if one was clad in armor it was to be helpful as opposed to a hinderance. Jo had seen both of the aforementioned characters before, and had yet to see either with armor such as his. If anything, she had seen the sellsword in chain mail, but those were of a different class. “Furthermore, both carry a cruder sword of cheaper steel. Yours it but one piece and crafted as if it were an artform.”
Yes she had done it rather swiftly, but she had always had a quick tongue and a sharp mind. Shame she was born with so little prospects, they used to say at market. “It is so, oh we only hear of the great knights, those who will be born of legends, who legends shall be written about.” Was it too bold to ask if he had yet any legends, any stories that the bards at great halls sang of? A pretty little pet back home, her embroidered cloth, given as a token and kept as a promise ring, worn near his heart beneath all of that armor and pressuembly fancy clothes.Yet he did bow his knee and head to kiss her hand, and for perhaps a second, Josephine might have felt a tad bit flattered before she remembered her manners then bowed her own head in return.
Though she felt she were straying close to a dangerous line, Jo still thought of it as innocent fun. If the man was thinking anything else of this meeting, then he was clearly quite mistaken. Yet ever so polite still the knight did not let on that he thought anything other of this then a series of odd circumstances. Being found in the woods, the wizard certainly thought of her one of his own. A witch. Or at least one of magic, and that was partially right but Josephine needed no reminders on who or what she was and the knight who was momemtarily her captive, a willing one at that based upon the way that he did stare, meant. It was a dance with a devil, a polite devil who called her M’lady. That was never a turn Josephine had expected to be run in the same sentence, let alone referencing herself.
“A pity.” A sad fate she thought it, that knights such as the stories, the songs sung of did not exist, or as he said, were rare and few. Was the latter thought justification for the she-wolf then, to dig her claws in this one and claim him? That was hardly a relationship then, more a possession and Josephine wanted none of that. What use would she have with a knight, when it was his kind, who was sent after a lone, deranged wolf to dispatch of it? For as good as she knew, he was bathed in both light and blood.
“Jo,” She saw no reason to give him her full name, seeing how she hardly used it except in polite conversations, where such introductions were a necessity. Yes he had seemingly provided his full name, but nothing more then that. In fact, he had hardly claimed his title of knighthood. “Am I not mistaken, or is there not title you have forgotten, Sir Adalhard?”
_______
“Forgive me, I did not know. I am sure he is proud nonetheless.” May the man rest in peace. He did not know him, but to have death upon anyone was an unfortunate event. Though he meant every word he had uttered. He must have been proud if he was to raise a woman with a mind.
But how courageous of her to go about and watch him the way she did. Normally any other man would either take offense or lead it to some place he knew would get him into trouble. Adalhard however stood there quietly, amusement on his smile from the way she went about it. It was the first time though he had gotten a strange feeling about it, that maybe she was doing more than just judging him in his looks.
“Clever indeed, by far the cleverest I have met.”How quickly she was able to observe him and take into account what she had learned prior of those she met before. What they carried, how they carried themselves and how they spoke. The woman easily put them together and eliminated all those things he could not be and pick the one he was. Adalhard was more than surprised, impressed, he was simply astonished at her deduction of it all. His features showed it all, unable to hide it even with that charming smile of his. She spoke the truth in more ways than anyone else could come to believe.“If a man is meant to be a knight, their armor will fit them without mending.”Adalhard spoke quietly and quickly after her words. She knew of swords and how they were made. It truly was an art form to watch a blacksmith create one from start. He had been there to watch his being made by his father’s friend. It was one of his best memories.
“Born to create legends. Many men hope to do just that.”Many men, but for some reason, Adalhard saw no reason to do such a thing. That was another man’s dream, not his. His was to his friends, those he cared about. But he had met plenty of fine knights that would create such stories, one of them being one he was here to see - Godric Gryffindor. At the words he gently released her hand, taking a step back as he had finally formally introduced himself. He let the smile linger on his lips for a second before he sighed at the ‘pity.’ Indeed it was. If only there were more honest men in the world to become such knights.
“Jo.”
The name escaped his lips without an effort but the knight let his eyes fall elsewhere for a moment as he let the name sink in. He was positive that was not the given name for the woman, but if she did not wish to share her full name he would not press the matter. Adalhard wasn’t even sure if he would be seeing her ever again after this meeting. The man knew very little of what was going on in her thoughts, of what dangers could be underlying them at this very moment. It was a pity that he treated every women with the belief they all had innocence and good in them. Still, he liked the name and one day, if they ever met again, he would be sure to ask her full name.
“Well, I thought we could depart as friends or strangers, but it seems that you will not give me the advantage of either one, Jo.”It seemed as if the woman wanted him to leave in a sense that she had all the power. Honestly, Adalhard wouldn’t have minded in the least. If it was what made the other happy, then so be it. He was never the type of man to take the light from another. He did as he was told and did what was right.
“One only deserves to be called ‘Sir’ if the other believes it to justice to the man.”
A faint laugh escaped his lips though. Adalhard barely ever spoke of himself as a Sir. Most of the time when he met others, it was in the presences of Bernard and the Duke would do the speaking at first before disappearing off. Being a knight was never meaning to get a title for Adalhard. It wasn’t the reason he had become one. He had left his family (in good terms) to start his own life and gain the status on his own without expectations from anyone else. Though the reason he had become a knight was for his Duke. To be beside him and protect the man and what he believed in. He could only hope to do the same for any of those who asked of his help.
_______
“So little know such a thing….but, I can only pray that you are right, sir.”As she had said, a frighteningly honest statement as well from the woman who was far more prone to be secretive, she was her father’s daughter. The face of her mother, the nature of her father. If he were proud of her, even now, after Josephine had strayed so far…..she could not imagine what knowing such a thing would mean to her. Oh but this little ploy, she had no other intentions of revealing any more about herself.
The cleverest he had met, Adalhard said. Were his face not entirely transparent, to be read as a book, then she would have doubted the sincerity of such a statement in the first place. “Then you are not as well traveled as I imagined.” Josephine laughed. A mortal, without any magic she was born, but Jo reasoned that she had met many a clever person. Just as she had met those which would shame her and with that realization, now she found herself more curious to where this man hailed from, and what such place did not produce clever persons.
Jo studied him once more, and from his words, the look became suddenly curious. He sounded, without reeking of bravado, that he was not one of those men. Such a proclamation then, made him humble, and with it she had a strong sense that this was the sort of knight who was a dying breed. Now being both a knight and a wizard, the ability to write, to change the written world, was at his fingertips. “A wizard and a knight, surely that is rare as is to be humble.”
He withdrew and reclaimed his height advantage as he stood once more. Knights, or at least of this sort of knight, were not nearly as toxic as she believed them to be. Unless she was being swayed despite all her thoughts otherwise. Her words were not nearly as condescending as she could have made them, yet still his smile faded away. What was left in the halls of men, if they had no such tales of such glorious to inspire, to lead them? Did men at that point, become monsters, not turned by the bite of a wolf but by such sins as greed, as corruption? Did Adalhard wonder such things too, and thus his smile had faded, which Jo thought that that too seemed a pity.
They would depart as neither friends, nor entirely strangers. Rather a pair of acquaintances of which would be forgotten by the end of the month. That was the way she wished to play it, and though she had been utterly bored for a more meaningful of conversations, Eufemie was not present, and Piggly hardly spoke, the oh so clever she-wolf realized her fault all too late. ”But where would be the fun in that, good sir? Now you my craft a tale when you leave of how you narrowly missed being swayed by the fae and other such forces in the dark forest.” She flashed a wry smile, very much aware that by her stature and features she too could be a fae and mortal men knew better to mix with such creatures.“That is a finer tale to weave up at the castle and you are better off treading that path of light, gentle knight.”
Upon that note, Jo gathered the hems of her garments in hand and turned about to leave. This was not apart of her act of being coy, that act Josephine had dropped now that her mind finally caught up with her, and to depart was the actions she should have done long ago. A wolf and a knight had no business being on personal terms with each other. Not when he had sworn an oath to protect the realms from creatures such as her, and the she-wolf stayed for a second longer as she called over her shoulder,“The title suits you, Sir. I imagine you would wear it with the grace of a king. It is short for Josephine, if you must know…” Her voice trailed away and with a mutter she did add to those words that their paths, would not cross again.
_______
The knight was uncertain if the woman before him spoke the truth or not, but he could only hope that she did. He did not know her well enough to believe that she was a liar or one who spoke as honestly as he did, but Adalhard hoped to believe the better than the worse of the two for people. It was never wrong to think the best of people. So he would look like a fool if said otherwise but it was nothing the knight was not called before at times.
She was secretive though, that was something that Adalhard had quickly picked up of Jo. Though anyone would be if they had met a stranger in the forest, a knight or not. Adalhard had barely given her anything to go by either. But she had proven to be smart and gathered up more information than he thought one could with simply a few words and the way one dressed. Then again, Adalhard hadn’t realize how transparent his features and words could be sometimes.
The man did his best to hold back his laughter at her upcoming words. Was he not well traveled? That would have been a lie if he were to agree with Jo. He had been to many lands. He simply had not met the right people during his travel. Adalhard travel not for pleasure for any sort but for the Duke. To obtain anything that the man wanted him to, or deal with people that the Duke rather not bother to deal with first hand. Adalhard barely had any time to met people outside the courtship and if he did, it was for a brief moment in time.
“If you say that I am not, then I must not be.”An amused smile came across his lips as he glanced at Jo. Though she cared only to admit that she was clever, she would come to realize that she was far more so than she thought to be. The way he saw her to be. Still his amused smile matched her laugh. It sounded refreshing from what he had been around recently. For once, Adalhard hadn’t needed to watch where he was stepping carefully as he did when he was in court. But as curious as he was of her, he had seem to peek the same interest for her.
Adalhard should have known that magic would come up once in their conversation. He knew that she would only assume him to be for suddenly showing up in the forest the way he had. It was fortunate for him that he did not need to worry much about who saw him here as it was near to the castle and many magic folk lived about. There was no reason to hide who he was here, this was considered one of his homes.“Here I can say now that it is you whom has not traveled well. For there are plenty of wizards and knights like myself. But as for humble, you may be right.”Adalhard did meant for himself, but in general. If he could only find more humble men in this world maybe there wouldn’t be a war forming in the shadows.
The thought of her being a witch was something he had simply assumed as she walked about the forest which was close to the castle. She knew of wizards herself, meaning she was educated in what they could. Last, she was not frighten as he had simply shown up from nowhere and did not question that either. But was she one? The thought was there but she spoke nothing more of the castle itself or those she may know there. There was the small chance that she was human whom knew of their secret. Would he dare to push that? Or leave it be for another time if they were to ever met again? Once more, Adalhard found himself to tread careful of those around him. He could only curse his lucky suddenly. The corner of his lips twitched though, doing his best to not grin at the comment.
“I have met fae’s before. They have a different aura about them than you hold.”He sighed briefly as he looked away from Jo and around the forest.“What fun would there be to tell a lie with no meaning, Jo?”Though Adalhard told very little lies, more of the truth hidden in the bushes he decided to walk about, he saw no point in saying such things. His tales as a knight were nothing. He never understood how others spoke so freely of the killings they had accomplished. But if he had to choose, the knight would rather listen to those stories than share any of his own. His was dull and uneventful in his own opinion though someone else would say otherwise. Still the way Jo went about all this was entertaining in the least. But that smile of hers did very little to sway him that she was one of those Fae men dare not to trouble themselves with. Adalhard laughed momentarily at her words, the smile lingering longer than he expected it to.
“Gentle knight?”That was the first time he had even been called such. Fearless she seemed to be with her words and actions. Indeed she would be able to take care of herself but Adalhard still wish to see her to safety. As a wizard he knew the dangers in this forest far better than he thought she did. He watched her as she took about leave from him to wherever she was heading. It was when she had made distance between them that she looked back and spoke once more over her shoulder at him. The words that came were not ones that Adalhard expected to hear. To Jo, he wore the title well to carry it on his shoulders. It was the first time he heard it from a stranger who knew much yet so little of who he was. But then the name came to follow and he found his movement in his feet to follow after her.
“If you do not mind, I rather call you Josephine. A name just as alluring as you.”
_______
“It is not a lie, more akin to two persons who wish to keep their secrets.” She had quipped back quickly. The she-wolf might have been many things but a liar she was not, and there was an entirely large and understandable difference between selectively releasing important details of oneself and lying. The latter quality, Josephine was not a fan of.
Clever of him to notice such a thing, but her reply came fluid and quick with little thought to it. “I never claimed to be so.” She knew more of forests and life within them, what she knew best was what precisely had let her, despite having been a lone wolf, survive for this long solitary. What Jo knew was the rituals of creatures within them, the habitats of wolves, her knowledge of mortals, of witches and wizards alike was what she had known in her childhood. This was not a field she was truly that learned in, but she had never claimed to be. Even the most clever of persons had limitations, nor was she going to learn from this man, Jo would take her chances with those limited conversations with Eufemie instead.
She did not mind those, nor did she mind, as much as Jo might have imagined, Adalhard calling her by her full name. Again, neither ought to meet again, which was why she had used his words to depart as either strangers or friends, as a sign. It mattered not if the knight called her Jo or Josephine, she would not see him again. Provided if she had her way. Despite what had been said, his initial quest was seemingly forgotten. Perhaps she had been far too charming to begin with? Or should have been the second creature to flee him, for plenty good reason as the buck had, on sight?
“You may,” Josephine laughed again and it was not nearly as coy as the other, and by her ears had a slight sharper sound to it. Oh now she did regret playing her cards as she had done, “But it would be advantageous to know that flattery does so very little for you.”Perhaps that sort of talk worked in London town, or from whatever location he hailed from, but not with her. She would negate being alluring, out of a fear of having been all too productive with it, now that her far more characteristic snark had returned. Fire was, after all, opposed with ice, and as charming as she could play, the she-wolf could turn about face and drive him away. Now she had more incentive to do so. What use would she have with a knight?
“Pray tell, gentle knight, if you are on destination to the castle, why do you stray farther from it?” From their previous vantage point, Hogwarts was visible, and was not too far of a walk in the distance. Now as he, rejoined her, Josephine placed the castle at their backs and they were in retreat from it. Although the she-wolf had grown accustomed to having a shadow in the last few weeks as Piggly had a tendency to trail afterwards, out of what Jo presumed to be a fear of being alone, this was far different. Her eyes flickered to their corners as she awaited that information to dawn on him. Why was it that only man was the only hunter, which persued what it could not catch?
_______
Adalhard raised his hands in defense against her words but said nothing of them. In such a sense, she was correct. There was a difference between lying and keeping the truth hidden. Of course the latter of the two could be done with the first, but if one was smart enough they could avoid any casualties that may form.
“That is true. Nor have you claimed to be anything you claim me to be as.” Which of course he had spoken of being of magic line. Adalhard could assume things as he had already, but one could never really know the truth unless it was said to hear or seen with one own eyes. There were still many other creatures in the forest, she did not need to be a Fae. Adalhard raised a brow though at the other possibilities if she did not turn to be a witch or a muggle as they called humans.
The way she had spoken and laughed kept him on his toe. Not so sweet and coy as before, Josephine seemed to put up her guard suddenly. “I did not say such words to be flattering, I simply spoke of the truth, Josephine.”Once more he said her name and it came out fluently with a smile lingering on his lips. He really did like the way it rang in the air. Though Adalhard been used to flattering women over all kind when he was at court, there was always truth to the words he spoke. He never looked down upon a woman in anyway. His mother would have his head if he ever did.
“Who is to say my destination is the castle? I could be going very well going the same way you are. Might I ask where you are heading?”
Adalhard skirted around with his words, his eyes glancing over behind him at the Castle’s head. He knew very well where his destination was and that it was certainly not anywhere where Josephine was heading. Still, he would not allow her to go unaccompanied no matter how she proved herself strong enough to be on her own.
“Surely there is no harm in me keeping you company is there?”
_______
Jo frowned as she was growing cross with the idea that Adalhard was not nearly as hard to shake as she imagined he might have been. Certainly it was that code of chivalry that she had previously teased of, one which despite her claims of being capable, that governed quite strongly that Adalhard needed to escort her through the forest. Since Eufemie had welcomed her, though it had been a tad bit naive of an idea that Eufemie was the collective voice of the wolf pack that she ran with, Josephine had thought of it as home. She felt secure here and had spent her hours learning the trees, their roots, the streams.
“How is it not? Only a foolish man would trapse about in a forest as dense as this one clad in all of his armor, those fineries are for the castle…” Her voice deliberatly trailed off again, “and such is where you belong.” Hopefully the implication was clear enough, the castle and its equivalent, the growing city in the shadow of the castle, and the others crafted by man beyond it, all those locations consisted of—in her mind— was Adalhard’s world. Where they were now was hers and that of her kin. A world governed by the cycles of the moon, lived in fear and shadows. The knight had no business here, and she doubted that this world was within his realm of understanding.
It mattered not for her to say that she was listless with no direction nor a location in mind to head to. She had no present goals other then to scare away her most persistant companion. Adalhard unnerved her in ways he should not, in ways that she did not wish to consider at the moment, as they were many a heavy thought. Each one of his steps sounded heavy, accompanied by that metallic cling, of the metals of which was an entirely foreign sound. It prickled the hair at the back of her neck, and rang at her ears. Though his question was seemingly innocent, the man still regarded her as one of his own, a witch that is, naturally were that true then there was no harm in it. The she-wolf knew that this was not the case, and of her secrets she would not entrust with a perfect stranger, “You bring an inadvertent fear with you, can you not sense it? The world about us has taken a collective breath and not released it since. Were are the songs of the birds?”
_______
“Such cruel words from a lady.” Adalhard place his hand over his heart with a concern look coming about his eyes. The knight had been called many things to never take it to heart. She was not the only one who thought him dense of a man to full follow this chivalry he had been raised on. “These are not fineries for the castle, but for battle from when I last checked.” The only reason Adalhard came in his arm was because of his short time he would be staying here. He would speak with Godric and then head back to London with an ease pop. He would arrive back at the small farm he left his things, his stead, and ride back to London within a few hours to see as if he had only been gone for a day.
Adalhard hadn’t thought about staying on the grounds for more than a day. The knight let his hands drop once more to his side, casually looking about them before letting his eyes fall to Josephine with a smile. “Just because a man is suited in armor does not make him suitable to belong in a castle. You have judgement very quickly in the short time we have been speaking, Josephine.” Honestly, Adalhard was disappointed at how quickly she had found ways to title him. But worse, he had gotten the feeling that she did not want him near her. That was a change of pace for the gentle knight.
“Do I?” Adalhard raised his brows at her words, curious as to what caused her to say such things. What was on her mind to bring up the topic? He knew the dangers that crept in the shadows of the forest and he knew how to protect himself from them. He was no fool at a sword nor at his wand. The knight had enough practice with both. Adalhard hadn’t the slightest idea that there would be creatures in the forest that would find him to fear. Though per Helga’s request, he was not about to go hunting magical creatures he knew would be vital to their studies. But to say the world around them had simply stopped singing because they had spoke words with one another seemed far fetched to the knight. If anything, he could say that the time had stood still for other reasons than fear.
The knight took a deep breath, looking about the quiet forest. “Maybe it has. Though it might not be for the reason you think, Josephine. The silence could mean more than what you expect it to. Can there not be a chance it means some good?” He stopped in his foot tracks, knowing very well that Josephine was only going further into the woods. If she did not wish to tell him where her destination was, he would not push to know.
“I hope for this to not sound to forward, but I wish for us to met again, Josephine.”
_______
Jo knew what disfavors she did herself, her so called cleverness which she boasted of, to make such an astute assessment before and now such a sweeping statement. He belonged in the castle, she belonged in the forest, it was so very simplistic, but she wanted the man to be offended by it. As long as it worked, the she-wolf wanted Adalhard to be so offended that he would dash and loose what interest he had then ultimately, ideally, turn about face to leave.
Instead he looked dejected even hurt, which she could not follow if it was done in jest or honesty. Josephine was not one to make jokes, her words would follow a familiar, tired path. Sometimes clever, sometimes snarky but always constant. She was only playful when confident or feeling that she had an edge, and presently, she felt neither.
A man in armor had a place within the castle, as he had a place on the battle field, but even still both were locations that Josephine was not comfortable herself and deliberately chose to distance herself from. No matter how brave she might have been, or what she knew of fighting, she would not tread willingly to a battleground. Though she knew blades, bows, how to lay traps, with her current condition her weapons were her teeth and claws. Unless that battlefield fell in alignment with the phases moon, its fight upon the day before the moon’s demise where it was at its fullest glory, these weapons were of little use to her.
Yes, Jo had learned to slow, then control her transformations when the wild within her beckoned and her blood sang and in that amount of control that she did not feel the same illness that others of her kin did before the full moon. She would not fall victim to the rages that such a transformation triggered, nor the pain. Humans, dare she think that not even wizards themselves, could understand that. How ones bones seemed to grow and stretch many broke, others grew in where there was none. Muscles ripped open to expand and entire organs relocated, one’s human mind could only tolerate so much pain before they lost their rationality, their sanity to the mind of the wolf. Nor did the wizards want to understand, many thought of those who had been bitten as beasts, below them. In passing she had even heard many say that were there any demons at all in this world, as Emma Queen of England thought, they were not witches and wizards, but the werewolves. It was they who were damned. The world seemed to grow a little smaller then. Granted, what Jo knew of magic, she had only known through her association and now being of that magical world. Otherwise she knew nothing being born a so-called muggle. She had heard that word before, they called her by it in the she-wolf’s previous pack, and it hardly sounded either endearing or a compliment.
For those reasons she wanted him gone and away from her. Josephine thought that it was the wolf who was momentarily curious to meet such a radient knight, the wolf who had encircled him and led him in, but now that she had returned to reason, she would heed her logic. It said that if she was truly clever, she would run. Return to her safe distance away, the wold of shadows and nightfall. Her logic continued to say that it was better this way, to remove such temptations and told her to reply, “To pass judgement within a glance is an inherent nature of man.”
Why else would there be many a clever bit of writing that foretold not to judge based on one’s outward appearance? Adalhard was better off thinking she was a fae then knowing the truth and she did not answer his latest question, in fact she did not answer many of his questions, and instead let them fall on deaf ears. She eyed him again sharply to insist that he in fact, was, and that his question was a rhetorical one. The wizard-knight might have reasoned that he knew all the creatures here in this forest, but if he had been led astray by a wolfish woman, then it was proof of what little he knew. ‘Heed the face with eyes too bright, with smiles too wide and far too many teeth.’ The she-wolf did not know how Adalhard had not heard such a saying before, even she in her previous life as the daughter of a huntsman, had heard it. It was only after her evident re-birth had she known both what it meant and how valid of a warning it was.
“In silence there is nothing, nothingness is not a gain or a benefit.” Now he finally halted, having seen that she had no other intentions of either slowing or letting him follow further. Her path was back into the woods, where she felt safe. Adalhard was remarkably forward to say such things, to hope such things. Now that she knew his scent, she would avoid it, forget his face and smile. What she was adamant of was that their paths would not cross again. There was no condolences to give, no goodbye to offer, instead she would recite for him the line. The final warning. “‘Heed the face with eyes too bright, with smiles too wide and far too many teeth.’” Then she ran.
As you all know, we were previously playing in real time. We know that might have been difficult for most of you, especially when your muse disappeared for a few weeks, you got sick, or held up with school. So we’ve decided to change the way time flows to a system that’s hopefully more comfortable for everyone and will hopefully give you a little more creative freedom in terms of how long you want your plots to extend and when you want your paras/convos to happen.
We’re going to be using months to keep track of time. So, for example, currently it’s the month of September, school’s starting back up and those who had somewhere to go over the Summer are back. This doesn’t mean that when the month ends in real time the month will end in character. We’ll allow the month to go on for however long we feel is necessary, it might be a couple of weeks, or could be a month and a half, it could be two months if it’s an important month like December. We’ll take everyone’s input into consideration of course, so if you guys feel like a change of month is necessary then we’ll probably go ahead and do it, if you guys feel like you want to stay in the current month, we’ll probably agree with you.
As far as archiving goes, we do hope all of you will keep track of your paras/convaras/chatzys in the order you wanted them to happen, and make it easier on Anya to archive them. Tracking pages are a great way to do this, and templates for them can be found in various places on tumblr. If anyone needs examples or suggestions just ask and we’ll go ahead and reblog a few on the member’s page for everyone.
So, for example, a character’s tracker in September would look like this:
September:
-Convara with Someone
-Para with Someone
-Convara with Someone
-Convo with Someone
-Para with Someone
That’s not very pretty, but it serves the purpose. Tagging your posts is always helpful and will make it easier for you when you/Anya package them. We don’t expect you to go back and re-tag everything and reorganize, nor do we expect Anya to do that for the archive, but hopefully everyone can find a consistent system that works for them to use from now on.
Regardless of that he didn’t pick the glass up again, instead letting it sit, half-full, on the table, the grin melting down into a content smile. Lambert never wanted to be King, he never wanted to have these people tiptoeing around him as if he would strike with that unnecessary cruelty that most Kings were known for. No. He wanted to have friends, have food and drink, to enjoy himself and let his darling wife take over the general proceedings, though as of late he had come to learn that perhaps that wasn’t the best way to go, perhaps she was doing more bad than good...
Lambert sat rather listelessly in the gardens that sat in the court of the royal dwellings, his legs stretched out in front of him and his hand around a particularly fancy glass, filled to the brim with wine. He was gulping it down by the mouthful, extending his hand once again for it to be refilled until his eyes happened upon a familiar Knight.
‘Sir Aldahard.’
He yelled over the music, beckoning the man to him, slumping down in his chair a little more.
‘Come here!’
—————
Adalhard had been minding his own business having just left the Duke to his own duties and whatever else he may have had planned for the night. He knew that he had been taken fancy by a certain lady as of recently, and after having approached her, Adalhard was certain he could trust her for the time being. Now was the only change he had gotten since a few weeks ago that he was free for himself. He believed that training on the grounds where some of the other knights were would do him some good.
He had yet to figure out how the knights of London fought for their king and if there was anything for him to learn by it. He would pass by the courtyard where he thought would be open and free, giving him enough time to pass in the breeze in silence. But the moment that he had stepped into the yard, he heard a familiar voice call his name. Looking out into the distance, he saw the King accompanying a family that had been brought in as guest.
The knight pressed his lips together, not certain if it was the best time for him to go about and enter the scene as the others probably had not the slightest idea of who he was. But who was he to refuse the King? He too was a guest in his court and from the last they had departed, he was uncertain of where they stood.
With steady feet, Adalhard walked on over casually, greeting the others as he did with his charming smile. He came ahead of the King, bowing cautiously at the man.
“Your majesty. I see you are enjoying yourself with the new company.”
—————
Lambert gave the man a smile as he approached and bowed, waving at an empty seat for him to take it, and he pushed himself to sit up properly, one leg crossed over the other, looking at his company—the family, the Knight, the singer and the cup-boy—and ha laughed, carelessly bringing the glass to his lips again. It would suffice to say he didn’t care much for the company he kept in England, what use were they to him? They would turn their shoulders as soon as there was a new contender for the throne, and all the sooner he must make himself a son, but that was thought for the morrow.
‘This.. This is Lord Perkin Warbeck of Hereford, his Lady wife Beatrix, and two daughters, Eleanor and Arabella. And this is Sir Adalhard Krol, he joins us from Poland.’
Lambert made a wave between them all, wine sloshing from his glass down onto the floor, and he paid it no heed, eyes instead on the father of the girls whose face had all brightened significantly at the man’s being a Knight.
‘This one, Sir, this one Eleanor, is now fourteen, and still a maiden, still unwed.’
He couldn’t help but chuckle, rising a blush from the girl, something he didn’t seem to notice—and if he did, he hid it well—his smile some mix of amusement and mockery,
‘What do you think, Sir? Would there be a shortage of men to take her to bed and make an honest woman of her? And this one.. this other one.. widowed. But surely not shortage either, some men like their women broken in. What say you, mm? Would you?’
—————
He supposed there was no way in getting out of this one. He knew whatever the King wanted, he would get. And as he was still swimming in deep waters, Adalhard was careful with what he said or did around the King. Adalhard watched the King closely with his smile, sitting down in the empty seat near him. His eyes went to the company quickly before looking to the King once more as he spoke of them, who they were and where they came from.
Adalhard never liked beening in the company of Royals as they were enjoying themselves with more than just a glass full of wine. There were reason as to why as well he did his best to avoid these situation. Right now, here with the King, was a perfect example as to why he did. Pressing his lips inward, the knight’s eyes went to the goblet in his hands, the wine moving around vigorously every time he spoke and dared not to look where the color was staining him.
He moved briefly, making it as if he was just trying to get comfortable in his seating, from the wine barely missing his arm on the seat. A mental heavy sigh came about him as he looked at the Warbeck family apologetically. He had been in situations like this before with his own father and his drunken attitude when he was forced to attend his banquets and parties. He nodded at the Father of the family, knowing what the man was already thing, what all the father’s and mother’s were thinking when he was introduced as a knight, single, and with a family with riches. He was perfect for one of their daughters. Unfortunately, Adalhard was not pursuing anyone either, so there was nothing he could but be polite.
Adalhard’s eyes went to the youngest of the daughters as the King pointed her out, speaking words that should not be heard in front of her or any other woman in that matter. But he wouldn’t dare correct the King right now. Eight years older than the girl, Adalhard saw her as still a child having much to learn still instead of thinking about men in her bed. But that was the way he was taught to learn. Adalhard gave her a genuine smile nonetheless.
“The Ladies of Hereford will never have trouble with their beauty.”
His eyes glanced towards the King briefly before moving to the family before him, his ankle coming across his knee as he relaxed slightly.
“But to be in bed with a man is not the way to make an honest woman. Nor does a woman widow mean she has lost everything.”
Now if only he could let the King know he had far too much to drink already. But that of course might have his head.
—————
‘What a liar you are..’
He muttered, sinking back into his chair as he glanced at the two girls, a cruel smirk twisted on his lips, but he shifted to look at the rest of them, bar Aldahard, and sighed, giving them a few curt, polite, words of leave, and they scuttled off almost as fast as their little legs would carry them—which considering the size of the family was certainly not fast at all. He watched them leave before sipping a little more at the wine, a sweet wine, from France, and for that he was thankful.
Lambert turned in his seat to look at Aldahard, that smirk had simmered down to a general smile, he barked at the boy to pour a cup for the other man before sinking back again,
‘So how was your day, mm? The day of a Knight, filled with training and attending Bernard, I assume. Tell me, Al, do you want a wife? I would find you the best in the country, or is it a bed-warmer you want? A girl? A boy, even? I won’t tell.’
He glanced to the boy playing the music and snickered a little bit, kicking the knight’s foot lightly as he inclined his head towards him—silvery brown hair curled around his cheeks and ears, doe-like brown eyes, soft, ruddy and pale skin—as if asking What about that one?
—————
The man was caught off guard slightly as he was called a lair. He had hopped that it was the wine speaking from the King as he truly did not believe that he was a lair of the sort at all. Adalhard said what he believed to be true in his eyes of the family.
Adalhard took a deep breath as he watched the family leave once the King had bid them to do so. He held back anything he would want to say, simply letting the smile and nod he had given speak all the words he needed to the family. They were just one of the many that would accompany the King in lunch, dinner, or other affairs. There wasn’t much he could do to make them feel comfortable or welcoming as it was not his calling to do so. So instead, he watched them in silence until they were gone and the King spoke to him once more.
He could have said he would do fine without the wine, but Adalhard knew better to refuse a drink from anyone. So he took the goblet with a smile, taking a sip of the rich flavor before the knight leaned back to get comfortable. “I am not only a knight, your majesty.” A small laugh escaped his lips at the words. He was knight by choice, the only choice he had the chance to make. But because of his background, he could have been stated as more if he did not seclude himself from his family at times.
Taking another sip from his glass, he looked at the King from the rims of it. Did he want a wife? Of course he did. He had thought about a family, but not anytime soon as there was still much to do.
“I believe every man that has seen the darkest days hopes for a family to come home to, your majesty.”
He looked down into the wine quietly, thinking of a future he had plenty of times before. Every time he did, the images changed. The knight gave an amused smile at the King as he spoke even him having a man in bed. He hadn’t before, but there were limited women he had had as well. Adalhard was still a man. But he treated every woman splendidly. Adalhard raised his brow curiously at the King when he was gently kicked, looking over at the boy he had been staring at. Yes the boy had attractive features, but so did many others. Licking his lips from the dryness of the awkward tension that had been created, Adalhard did his best to look at the King amused.
“A man or a woman can wish to love whomever without having to tell anyone, your majesty. But if you are looking for an answer pertaining to if I have my eyes set on anyone, I do not.”
—————
The King let his lips twitch up into a smirk as he watched the Knight’s tongue run over his own, and he just couldn’t not hold back the small scoff that left him. So that was something interesting, a fun new fact, perhaps Adalhard was a fan of the boys, too, the boys and the girls, and if that were so then Lambert had plenty to go around, the young, warm, little English boys did wonders at times, there were plenty of teenage Lords and Ladies, wed and not, that would be delighted to share a bed with a man as handsome as he. But there was something off, something not quite right in the way the man sat with him, in the way he looked at him, responded to him, and he frowned.
‘Are you afraid in my company, Sir? I want you to be relaxed with me, be honest with me, do not skimp on your words and speak freely.’
He said this honestly and yet could not wonder what he would let himself into if the man were to take those words to heart, if he would tell him everything and all in truth and nothing else, allow himself to speak and say whatever he thought necessary.
‘As a friend, councilor, companion, adviser whatever you wish to call yourself, Adalhard but I will not have you by my side if you choose to hold back on what you wish to say, is that understood?’
—————
Adalhard did not wish to bed someone every night, nor simply use a man or a woman to satisfy his needs. He found that it was better to have someone as a companion, as a friend and share such feelings than waste them every night with someone new. But that was his ideal of it all. What his mother taught him about treating a woman right and respecting a man for who he was. The man simply smiled at the King at the thought. Was he simply saying this because the wine had gotten to him? Or did he honestly wish to know?
He took a deep breath, being caught off guard at his next words. Looking confused for a moment, he pressed his lips, letting his fingers run across his lips casually as he watched the king. Was he afraid of his company? Who wouldn’t be? The man had the power to have anyone’s head in a matter of seconds. Adalhard plenty to live for. No matter how honest he wish to be with the King, a true friend, it would still be hard. He was the King, and he was merely a knight for the Duke.
“Your majesty, I am honored enough to be in your company the many times I have been, but as you are King, I cannot help but respect you and your standings.” It was almost impossible to be the sort of man the King wished for him to be without having to offend the man. “But as you request, I will do my best to try. I can only hope my mother will forgive me if disapproves.” A small grin came to the corner of his lips before he looked away and gave a faint laugh.
But he couldn’t change who he was. Adalhard was raised to be a gentleman - to everyone. That was one thing he could not change. Except when he was trying to scold Bernard for something (which of course always failed).
“May I say that your majesty has had a bit too much to drink already?” Adalhard raised his brow, a small grin at the corner of his smile, testing the waters.
—————
At Aldahard’s words, Lambert’s lips turned up into a grin and he sunk a little more into his chair, lazily pushing the glass away from himself and he let his head lull to the side, eyes on the man, chuckling slightly,
‘You may say that, yes.. But you know.. you know.. A Danish man can drink more than you English.’
Regardless of that he didn’t pick the glass up again, instead letting it sit, half-full, on the table, the grin melting down into a content smile. Lambert never wanted to be King, he never wanted to have these people tiptoeing around him as if he would strike with that unnecessary cruelty that most Kings were known for. No. He wanted to have friends, have food and drink, to enjoy himself and let his darling wife take over the general proceedings, though as of late he had come to learn that perhaps that wasn’t the best way to go, perhaps she was doing more bad than good. He sighed a little bit, shifting his legs up , one crossing lazily over the other as he looked out at the people in front of him.
‘Do you think I shouldn’t drink anymore?’
He asked, wondering if the man would be so beautifully bold as to tell him the truth rather than skittering around the subject like most were likely to do, would they be so afraid that they’d let him drink and drink until his liver could take no more? They were supposed to advise him, and yet they did nothing. Absolutely nothing.
‘What do you think I should do, Al?’
—————
Adalhard took a long sip of the wine, still not used to the taste the English had over the ones they had back in Poland. He looked down at the dark liquid, moving it slowly in the glass before he looked at the King, watching carefully as he moved his own glass off to the side. The knight did his best to not laugh too loudly at the King’s words.
“I am sure that may prove to be true, but I would rather not go about testing that for my own health and those around me.”
The knight shook his head as he took another sip of the wine. The richness of it made it the bitter taste at the end far stronger than he normally liked it, but the knight said nothing about it. It was nothing that he wouldn’t, couldn’t get used to. Raising it to eye level, he looked at the custom silverware of the royal family before looking far into the distance to some of the few guest walking about. He took a heavy breath, looking over at the King as he lazily sat in his chair.
“I always say there is wisdom in wine. It allows people to speak freely, do you not think, your majesty?”
So then was drinking much of it a smart idea when around people you normally could not trust? He raised a brow at the King. “The question is not if you should not drink anymore, your majesty. It is how much one should and whom he should drink around.” Adalhard always kept his liquor down. And the only man he ever felt he could drink to his hearts content was with Bernard as they were childhood friends first and foremost. “If you want my advise that is it. You do not need to stop drinking, but be careful around whom you do it with.”
—————
He eyed up the other as he spoke and he gave a small shrug, wondering, momentarily, where Bernard had got to, wondering if he was keeping Aldahard here away from him—he soon let those thoughts disappear, he was a King and Bernard would bloody well have to wait for his time with Al—time he had far too much of, Lambert thought. A smile came to his lips and he shook his head some, hoisting himself to sit up properly, and then to stand. It took a little moment for him to steady himself, but it came, and he walked past the other man, a hand brushing over his arm lightly, giving is a squeeze.
Slim fingers plucked at the food still laid out on the table, standing with his back to Aldahard, wine discarded off to the side and not a thought came to his mind to carry on drinking—it was in his blood to drink and to eat, but now he was an English man, he would have to start acting like one. He’d already started to speak like one, being a little nicer and a little better-spoken, pronouncing all his words properly, and his accent had even faded some, no longer as strong as it had been when he’d arrived in the country.
‘Do you think I scared them?’
He asked in regards to the family he had just sent away, a little smirk on the corner of his lips, and he felt a little bad for what he had said, sure, but he was the king and they had come asking money and sorts, again. He pressed his lips together in a line before popping a piece of rolled up meat into his mouth and turning to look at the other man,
‘Am I to be kind and receptive of all the people that come through my doors, and pretend to mean it? They all come asking for the same things; better food—as if I can help their crops!—protection, money, land.’
He tutted a little bit,
‘And these ones come to ask for marriages, because I have any care who his daughters end up bedding.’
—————
If he knew what the King was thinking, he was sure that he would have given him the answers he looked for. But he had merely asked for his advice and that was what was given to the great man without hesitation from the knight. He knew very few took advice from him as they saw him as still a young man. But there was much Adalhard witness in his life to say such things. But of course, others who never knew any better would see him as foolish and never give a second chance. No matter, the knight rather not waste his time where he knew it was not wanted.
What matter was that Bernard kept him close. The man was more than just his Duke, he was his friend. He hopped that such a relationship would form with the King of England, but Adalhard was sure that it was a long shot, that the King had plenty of people he thought of as friends. Though the King had said he wish to have people around him that were trustworthy, it all mattered if he took action to those words and if Adalhard was good enough to be one of them.
Taking a deep breath, the knight went for another sip, but stopped when he saw the King stand. He was about to follow, making sure the man was alright, but stopped half through the thought. Adalhard was sure the King would brush him off as he could stand and walk on his own. Taking a deep breath, his blue eyes followed the King, the tickling sensation overcoming him when he felt the soft touch of the man’s hand against his arm, and then the gentle squeeze. What was the man thinking? What waters was Adalhard swimming in?
Reaching over and putting his drink down on the table, he took a piece of fruit, popping it into his mouth before he stood, fixing the edges of his leather jacket sleeve. He raised his brow though when he was directed a question once more.“Honestly, I do believe so. You are the King of England, your majesty. You will always be seen as such. People will tread carefully around you whether you are or not frightening.” Adalhard gave a brief smile at the other before letting it drop. He too felt truth in what he said about his own perspective of the King and Queen.
Adalhard walked over towards the King, stretching his arm out to place a hand on his shoulder, a smile forming at the corner of his eyes.
“Your majesty, you are King. Your duties require you to do so. But that is why you have friends besides you to talk your worries away. Unfortunately it is what is expected of those in higher standings. I cannot count the number of letters I’ve had to write with the same proposition.”
—————
‘Do you find me frightening, Aldalhard?’
He asked simply, turning his back to lean against the table of food, chewing lazily on another piece of meat, he was barely tasting any of it, the alcohol had lost its effect swiftly and now left him with dull senses, dull words and dull everything else, his nose wrinkled some, glancing down to the hand on his shoulder. His eyes lingered for a moment, just looking—though in his mind it seemed far longer than it had been—his nails were neatly trimmed, his fingers, though slightly calloused, looked soft and taken care of, he wasn’t dirty, he wasn’t injured. He paused, looking back up to the man’s face again. His hand rose, palm on the Knight’s cheek, a smile on his own lips once more,
‘You’re a good man, I cannot bear to write too many letters. My wrist aches and I lose all will to live.’
Lambert chuckled but he let his hand move, pulling the Knight into a tight hug, fingertips pressing into the sof, boiled leather and his palm then flattening on his shoulder, but it didn’t last long, the hug, and he let himself drop back again, turning his back to the man to pick through the array of fruits still left on the table, soon decided on the pork and apple sauce, as usual.
‘I hope you will stay for some time with me, here, I would very much hate to see an honest man go, there are so very few of you, but, please, listen closely. I want you to be honest, at all times, perhaps not in front of others, but be honest with me, I shall know if you’re not.’
—————
“As a man, no. As a man with a title, it could be said otherwise before I had gotten the chance to know your majesty. You have a kind heart others have yet to see.”
Though his words were slandered here and there when wine had been placed in his hand. But any man could fall to if he had enough to taste. Though Adalhard never found himself in that position, he was not sure what words would come from his lips and if they were his at all.
As the King’s gentle touch lingered on his face as it had once before, Adalhard felt himself found in a sense of calm. If any other knight, man even woman knew this side of the King, they would think otherwise of the King. The sudden hug from the man however had slightly had Adalhard taken back. But he welcomed it none the less with his own arms gently holding the man for whatever reason the King had. He was no man to judge what thoughts went through the King’s mind. To rule a country was far harder than anyone could imagine. Without even wanting to, one made enemies. It was something only those who held it in power would truly understand. But Adalhard promised himself at this moment that he would do his best to understand and help the King when he needed it the most.
When the King was ready, he let go as well, watching the man look for what he wanted to eat before returning to his seat. Adalhard smiled in the silence that followed suit.
And that was how he became to have his name. Adalhard the Honest. As the King had seen him as just that, an honest and good man. The man that he had wish for people to see him as. There was a feeling of content, no of something more as he listened to the words of the King. He was sure that he had been made in good graces of the man before him and their relationship was no long seen as something between Bernard and the King, but as Adalhard and King Lambert. A bond had formed and the knight was more than honored to uphold it into the future.
“I promise to be the man that I am now, everyday to you, your grace.”
‘You are friends with Sir Godric, I presume? Tell me, Adalhard, what would you do were he deemed a traitor, or accused of something akin to it? Would you remain loyal to your friend, or to your King? And don’t lie to me.’
‘Come now, cousin, I can only imagine what manner of things await us today.’
The King put his heels to the horse, setting it off into a light walk, assuming that the man would follow. They rode for some time, not out of London but further up north, towards the large plots of land where, no doubt, the game would lay. Hare, rabbits, deer, boar, all kinds of animals awaited his sword.
‘Sir Krol, do tell me,’
He started, turning his head to the man that rode along with him, shifting the reigns into one hand as he adjusted the sword on his side, licking his lips as he looked over him,
‘What is the best game in Poznan? I am afraid I’ve never been. But Bernard tells me ludacris stories of boar the size of horses, and birds the size of dragons.’
Lambert laughed a little, sitting himself back comfortably in the saddle, looking over at the approaching clunmps of trees, very well known for being ripe with game, as if the blood of the kills had watered the ground.
—————
Adalhard was quite pleased with himself as of late. He had gotten himself familiar with the grounds quicker than he thought he would, and became knowledgeable about the whose and whats of the castle. If that did not help, the man had found himself fond of some of the castle critters the Queen seemed to have as guest. ‘Guest,’ as Queen Emma would put it, were truly prisoners without knowledge. The knight knew something was wrong, but to find what it was - was the true task. He had barely any time after their first meeting to speak with the Queen, and found it difficult after the tourney had begun. So the knight had come to believe that the King would be of some help in the situation. Unfortunately, the King knew very little of the Queen’s plans and games.
None the less, Adalhard would stick by the King’s side. Lambert was a great King, and very few knew of it. The polish knight was sure that Bernard would only follow so in his own footsteps sooner or later. But as the King had requested his presences for hunting, Adalhard had woken a few hours earlier to prep himself. Though he had servants to his tending while he was staying at the castle, Adalhard preferred his privacy. Making sure he had everything, the knight made his way out, greeting those who came to him and even those from the distance.
It did not take him long as he came to find his horse and saddle up alongside the King. He nodded at the King, fixing his own cloak and throwing it behind him as he trotted quickly after the other.
“Your majesty seems to be in good spirits today.”
Adalhard gave a thoughtful smile at the man, knowing that the King had taken up more duties as there had been far more guest staying after the tourney ended. He took a deep breath, raising his brow at the King. A small twitch of his lips came to surface as he heard what his majesty had to say. Letting a laugh escape, Adalhard shook his head. “The Duke seems to make the smallest of tasks a challenge sometimes, I fear. But I believe all animals are alike in some way or another. I do not believe that there cannot be a boar as the size of a horse her either. They are sure to be roaming in the shadows.” Adalhard raised his brow in curiosity to the King.
“Our animals size may be greater than what breads here in England, but that is so because we do not have city’s like London. With such vast land taken, the animals have very little to feed off and grow. But the size of a dragon? I think not. I do not believe the Duke understands how dragons are portrayed just yet.” No, Bernard wouldn’t know besides the stories that were told. Even Adalhard had never seen a dragon himself to compare.
“I would have to say the best to hunt is the deer itself, as it proves to be the most challenging. The hunter only gets one shot, and only one, to kill.”
At the thought, Adalhard looked about, searching for his best kind of game. He was never the one to go for the biggest, or the strongest, but the one that knew danger was lurking, and was quick enough to escape it. Those were the ones that gave the man the title of ‘hunter.’
“What may I ask is your call, your majesty?”
—————
The king gave a happy sigh as the other man spoke and he was smiling still, letting the horse trot along at a nice, steady pace, his clothing so light and airy today that he felt awfully good about it, about himself, about the day and how the fruits of their labour would flourish. He would bring home a deer for the nightly feast, or a boar, something large and juicy, tender meats.
‘Ah, yes, Bernard is likely to exaggerate, but I do enjoy his tales, even though they are just that, fantastical tales of animals that could feed the kingdom for years to come. Dragons, yes, but who does know the true size of a dragon? For all we know they could be the size of the common dog.’
Lambert knew very l;ittle of this other man and knew little of what he was known to be, a hunter, a knight, a weakling or a man of great strength, but he could only assume there was something about him that kept him coming and kept him at court, and he would be glad to find out exactly what that was,
‘Well,’
He paused to think, eyes moving over the ground beside him as he led the horse into the trees, letting it walk a little slower,
‘I enjoy the sport, be it pheasant, fox, deer or boar, but the bigger the snimal the more I enjoy the hunt, the more it feeds.’
He let his eyebrows raise, smirking,
‘And a boar will run and run.’
—————
He was in a good mood. It was rare to find oneself alone with the King, (or so as alone one could get without the guards following yards behind) and be in a pleasant company. He grinned at the thought of the Queen having to say something against such things, knowing that there was more to the two’s relationship that met the eye. Sighing mentally as the man dared not to remove the smile from his lips, he looked to the King interestingly. He had been hunting with the man before, but only in the presences of Duke Bernard and more guards hoovering around them.
“Yes, hearing of his tales are far entertaining than doing one’s duty.”Adalhard grinned, a small laugh escaping his lips at the thought. If only the Duke was as excited to do what he was suppose to do instead of gossiping about stories. Who would have thought such a man would do such a thing? And as of late? He had disappeared off at the most crucial times.
The knight nodded at the man’s words. “What an honorable King would say,” the smile on his lips became genuine at the words. He took a deep breath, knowing what he said was true. If Adalhard any family to feed, he would do the same. Looking for the strongest and biggest game he could take down, and bring it home for those looking forward to it. Though the King was hunting food for his courtship, for his immediate family and not the people, the thought was enough to make anyone believe he was loyal to his family, to his duty to take care of them. It was the little things Adalhard took notice of.
“If dragon’s were the size of a common dog, I do not believe there would be legends to be told then.”
Though there was no reason for Adalhard to not believe dragon’s to be such a size. He too had never seen a real dragon, or know anyone of who has.
Keeping pace with the King, Adalhard looked about the forest, then over behind his shoulder at the distance the guards kept. They were far enough for them to not over hear on their conversation, giving him the perfect time to ask the King of what had been on his mind for some time now. “I am glad to hear that your majesty is as healthy as a boar.” And with that said, Adalhard swung his legs over and dropped down with a small thud. Taking a deep breath, he took the reins of his horse, trying it about a tree near him. From here on, he would go about on foot. If the King wish to or not, Adalhard would not mind either way.
“Your majesty, there has been something bothering me for some time now, and I do hope I do not speak out of term when asking this,” the knight looked over to King Lambert with a curious expression on his features.“How is it that you know Godric Gryffindor?”
—————
Lambert’s lips pressed together as the other man spoke and he nodded, a slight smile on his face, and it was very, very true, he would have much preferred to sit around and listen to Bernard’s extraordinary tales of dragons, animals, all sorts of crazy things, things that made him forget things and simply bask in them. Bernard was a wondrous fellow.
‘Perhaps not, but it is not always the size of things that makes them formidable, cousin, you must remember that.’
He followed suit not too long after the other man, sliding down from his saddle and leading the horse to a nearby tree, tying the reigns not too far from the other horse, he liked to think that the animals liked to have company while they waited, whether it was true or not escaped him, it was something he didn’t care to learn, they looked content there. He removed the cloak, draping it over another branch—for being a King, Lambert was not really one to care of these personal belongings, or for the perks he was meant to have (though he did enjoy the kneeling when he was feeling down).
The king was busy fixing himself up, adjusting the sword at his side and the arrows on his back—they would be of little use, only for slowing any prey—but he froze in place as the Knight spoke, only momentarily losing his train of thought before soon regaining it and continuing on, his body a little stiffer than before.
‘Sir Godric came seeking council, he and I have been in correspondence since, regarding the ongoing problems.’
He said simply, not giving any details and yet not brushing over the subject, open for more questions, though ones he was not sure he cares to answer.
‘I was unaware that you and he were acquainted. Knights in arms, I know, but are you close?’
—————
The man nodded in agreement. “I shall remember, your majesty.” Adalhard watched the King, taking notice of how he had paused in his movements at the mention of Godric. “The letter I had delivered to you earlier during my stay, I had taken notice of the seal by accident. I had recognized it as Godric Gryffindor’s personal seal.” Before the King could believe that Adalhard had been spying on him for knowing such a thing, the knight cleared his name before things would get worse.
“As close as knights can become in travels. I do my best to keep my letters clean with those I have been acquainted with.”
Adalhard was uncertain of the relationship he had with Godric. He saw the man as a good knight, but they had very little contact, unlike Salazar and himself. Though as the King had now become familiar with the man, it seemed that Adalhard would be getting to know Godric a little better.
“If I may speak out of term once more, your grace, but what sort of council was Godric seeking?” And of what problems had they spoken about in private? Adalhard was familiar with what went about England and the other countries, as Poland dealt with the same problems. Being close with the Duke had given him such advantages and priorities to know about conflicts and such. He took a deep breath, raising his brow at the King, Adalhard did his best to not step out of line as he brought his bow before him, fixing his arrows in the back.
“These ongoing problems,” Adalhard sighed deeply as he looked back over at the horses to see if they were doing fine. They would be good in each other’s company. As for the two of them, the knight could only hope that his questions would not put the King and himself in an uncomfortable position. He was after all, the King’s allay. Glancing back to the King once more, he continued about what he was going to say, “could you not have your trusted advisers help you?”
—————
Speaking out of term indeed, but that was one little thing about their King Lambert; he didn’t seem to mind. He moved a hand, pushing his hair back and away from his forehead, eyes moving over the landscape, looking around them for any signs of life, and he thought for a moment how best to answer the other man. It seemed he knew Godric, but they were both knights, did he know him as Lambert knew him? A man capable of magic, a man capable of rallying his troops to take down the entirety of his kingdom if he so choose, to go pagainst Emma and himself, leaving them with no chance of fighting back? Or was he just a knight?
‘There are some things the advisors are not apt to deal with, some things that are privy to keep to myself, trusted as they are, I am aware that these are still not my people.’
Lambert’s smile had dropped and he shrugged his shoulders, finding no problem with telling the other man the truth in what he was thinking and feeling, but it was rare that his thoughts ran true. He was no idiot. He pushed a smile forwards and shrugged his shoulders, looking around again, just making sure there was nobody around them,
‘I am want to sort these problems myself, rather than involving others.’
—————
Adalhard let his senses heightened at the soft crackle of leaves near his right. Hunting was not something Adalhard done daily, or willingly, but it was something that he was good at as well. For any knight that could sense a presence was a knight willing to be careful for. At the corner of his eyes he caught a deer running off into the distance. Even he had taken the chance to aim for it, he would have missed. Rather save the arrows for those that he was sure he would kill. Pressing his lips together, the man looked to the King once more, moving his cloak aside behind him as he took a few steps to follow after the man.
“I would do the same if I were in your place, your grace. At times, it is best to keep things to oneself, especially if it involves things the people cannot understand without bias judgment.”
How many secrets had he kept from those advisers the Duke had on behalf of the other man? And the one he kept from his friend, the one that drowned him every day when he faced the Duke? It was hard; he would not deny it, to hold the truth from those who would not understand. But what made him curious was as to what Godric would have wish to speak to the King about. What affairs had they written about? It was pricking him at the back of his head now as the topic had been brought up. But as he did not wish to push the King’s limits, Adalhard kept a safe distance with his words.
“Though, as a King, you must learn to believe you have loyal followers. I for one, no matter the consequences, never leave the Duke’s side. And to you, I am loyal friend, pray to remember that my dear King.”
Adalhard moved closer to the King, ducking his head to see further into the distance head of them. “There,” the knight pointed at a hart, a male red deer. One of the knight’s favorite to hunt if he ever came out with the Duke. They were fast, which only made his hunting all the more exiting. But at he knew that the King rather seek for something larger, he let his eyes follow to where the deer was looking. “It is watching its hunters.” He was sure, that they were not its only hunters, as the deer had seemed to turn its head towards their direction before running off. “There must be something near it was afraid of.” And that, Adalhard was sure, would be something the King was willing to hunt. Taking a deep breath, he waited for the King to follow through before he would. In the meantime, he had spoken once more of their prior topic.
“I apologize, my grace, for following with such words, but I had merely become curious as to how you had gotten to know Godric.”
—————
Lambert knew Adalhard to be a loyal man, as far as he had seen, and he had known him to be a graceful man, too, ever careful with his words and actions as not to upset those around him, but how far, he wondered, could one such as him really be trusted? Would he be so keen to keep his Queen happy? Others around them? To keep things close enough to his chest, yet far enough to hint at things unsaid? His body, nor his face, made any hint to these thoughts and a simple smile came over his lips, his hands clutched the reigns, turning a little further towards the growths of trees.
‘My dear Sir, I will remember those words, and I hope that you, too, will remember that they came from your own mouth.’
His eyebrows rose a little as he stepped over a large root, scraping the bottom of his shoe against is as he ventured, quietly, inwards, sword drawn and in his hand. The boars were fearless creatures, stupidly fearless, preferring to stand and fight rather than flee into the woods, and while many a man before him had fallen prey to their advances he would not. It took no more than ten minutes until the blood of the animal was soaking the ground beneath them, and he, with a triumphant smile, turned back to the other man.
‘Godric and I merely converse, as friends, he is currently in the north. If you must know, and keep this closer than you might the favour of a pretty lady, he is concerned as to the safety of those around him. Em—the Queen has been hard on the heels of apparent “witches” as of late, and he fears that those of his kin may be caught in the burnings and sentenced themselves. Plus, he is a Knight, I like to know as many as I can.’
It was not a total lie, in fact he had not lied at all, merely left out certain details of the story, but with a slight shrug of his shoulders he leaned himself down, hands grasped around the boar’s fat legs, dragging it out to the edge of the trees. A slight sweat broke out upon his brow, but he said nor did anything of it, merely letting the beast drop as soon as the area was clear. He waved a hand towards it,
‘Put it on the back of the horse, would you?’
His nose wrinkled a little as he looked at the man before him, all blonde hair and light eyes, tall, strong, everything a Knight should be and everything a young squire, or poor boy, might hope to be in the future. The King licked his lips a little bit, hands wiping at his cloak, wiping the blood from them,
‘You are friends with Sir Godric, I presume? Tell me, Adalhard, what would you do were he deemed a traitor, or accused of something akin to it? Would you remain loyal to your friend, or to your King? And don’t lie to me.’
—————
Adalhard stood quiet as he watched the King from a few steps behind. He watched where his eyes went, through the trees before them silently. “I always remember the words I say, your majesty.” The knight wouldn’t forgetting such words, not when honestly was present in them. He meant what he had said, that the King has a loyal friend in him so as long as what was done was done in truth. As he believed in Bernard, he became to believe in what the King was capable of doing for his people. But if the King comes to understand that Adalhard was truly at his side, he would get to know more of what was being planned and if anything needed to be done about it. As good graces he was with the Queen, he still needed to be careful around the woman. She was as tricky as they came.
True, he himself could be a dangerous man to watch. A gentleman he was, there were always secrets among men. But he gave no reason to anyone to think such thoughts of him yet. Adalhard did everything to be careful around those he knew could have his head within a matter of seconds.
Ten minutes passed in the silence and Adalhard followed the King quietly from behind, letting the man take care of the boar that came into view. He knew pride meant a lot to any man, especially a King who wished to feed those at his table. There was much to said about a man who could.
The knight stopped just a few feet away from the King cleaning his sword as he spoke of Godric once more. A curious look came over his features as he heard the words clearly. Godric, Witches. The Queen. Adalhard watched the King, letting his expression become calm once more as to not give out a clue of what was going about his thoughts. He knew the Queen was interested in knowing more of something, and this something was of witches. His presumptions were correct then. The Queen knew of them. What on earth did Godric tell the King?! “Words among friends.” Adalhard did nothing but give a brief smile before looking down at the boar. Moving his bow over his shoulder, he swept his cloak aside to get a good handle on the animal. With a grunt he was able to lift it and move it onto his own horse properly so it would not fall. Taking a deep breath, he whipped the few blood stains on his gloves off to a cloth he kept in the sack on the saddle before looking at the King once more, caught off guard by his words briefly.
Was he friends with Godric? It could be put as such as they knew of each other and spoke when they had the chance. But to say that he was close with the other knight was an overstatement. He knew of Godric because of Salazar. And he had met Helga and Rowena along the way. Still, he was a loyal and honorable knight, and there weren’t enough of those to go around so Adalhard respected the man. He took a deep breath, looking at his King without showing off any emotion particularly.
“Being knights require certain standings with others of our kind. But I do respect the man as I do respect you. I know of him and who he is, I suppose you can assume that we are friends in that sense.”
Adalhard’s breath was caught in his lugs as the question. He knew to lie to the King was beyond betrayal, especially as this King was close to Bernard. How could he answer such a question without seeming to be suspicious? Especially when he did not wish to go against either parties? Both the King and Godric meant something to the knight, it would be a shame to go against either one of them.
To imagine Godric a traitor seemed impossible. Though knights had turned and fallen, Adalhard could not imagine such a thing to happen to a man like Godric. He has proven to himself and those around him that he is willing to fight for what he believes and from the stories he has heard, Adalhard has come to believe in that man as nothing more than a good man. But the idea of the King coming up and saying such things made Adalhard wonder what it was Godric had said. Though all these things he was, as Adalhard was as well, a good man, knight, and friend, mistakes could easily be made. What else was in that letter? Why did the King seem anxious to know his answer?
“I would do what is best for us all. Because in the end, what matters is what is left of the fight and if we can use it to mend a new bond or a stronger one at that.”
—————
The King gave him a dry smile, turning himself to the man before him and a bare hand rose, his other clutching his glove, and touched at Aldahard’s cheek, pad of his thumb against his cheekbone and his fingertips pressed into the soft flesh at the back of his neck. A light tap to his skin and he let his hand drop,
‘That is not what I asked you, Krol. I asked what you would do. Would you side with your friend, or with your King? How are you to know who tells the truth in the situation, or what will be best for us all? As the King, surely what I say is the best for us, no?’
The smile turned to a grin, but he did not take his question back, only moving away to swing himself back onto the horse, reigns held in one hand, the other stroking through the horse’s main, patting it on the neck gently, and he sighed, using one hand to guide it’s head towards the other man, the sound of hooves muffled still by the mud and the grass. He was practised on a horse in only the way a royal could be, his eyes moved downwards, stroking over the horse again.
‘Are you done, or would you like to find yourself a deer?’
While the question hung in the air, he turned the horse to move away, walking the animal down along the edge of the woods, eyes moving over the trees and what may lay inside them, expecting the man to follow him. He sat back in the saddle, heaving a sigh, still smiling, looking over the trees fondly, there was hardly a time he felt more at ease than when in the saddle, when on a hunt, when out and about, generally away from his duties as a king, an in a place like this with a man like Al, well, that was nice, this was nice.
‘Do you think we’ll need a deer at dinner tonight?’
Lambert scoffed a little, every now and then he felt bad for those in the city that had far less than he did to eat, and yet he did nothing about it, instead feasting those at court, at his tabled, everybody he could fit there, the kitchens never stopped.
‘I do hope there’s enough apples, pork and apple.’
—————
Adalhard had stopped in his movements, gripping onto the bow he had just slung over his back as he felt the warm touch of the King’s hand against his cheek. He was honored to be here with the man, but the feeling brought something more to his knowledge than he wish to admit. Never would he say the King was not quick as any other knight or person he knew. Even his words there did not impress the man to level the topic be.
“You are the King of England.”
And as so, he would politely follow behind in silence so as long as he was here. He would do his best to keep good graces with those he must.
But he was right. How would he know of who spoke the truth? The only way he knew so much of it now was because of his own involvement. He was a wizard himself, a pureblood from a royal line. He could not ignore that fact and pretend that it meant nothing to him. Even to this day he used magic when he could, cast spells and learn of the magic that could help him ‘defend’ those he cared about.
“Do not fret, I can handle what I need to get later. I have other matters to attended to for the Duke when we arrive back.”
He would have to do later with hunting for himself and those friends he had made in the time he had been staying in London. He would be sure to give whatever extra he may have left over to the kitchen for anything they may wish to use for dinner. Adalhard normally was not at the dinner table unless the Duke request that he be there or the King and Queen themselves wished for him to be there. Normally Adalhard had enough of the royalties from his family linings that he take part as little as he could when he was in London.
The King was in a pleasant mood. He had seen the man about five times during his stay here with the Duke and each time the man seemed rush, people waiting on him to get things done. For once, the man before him was just that, a man having a good day. If only he did pray to God that the King would be in such a kind mood for the rest of the day. But alas, Adalhard was not the man to pray for anything.
“If we do, I will take care of it, your majesty.”
Adalhard moved his horse to follow alongside the King riding. He checked on the boar every now and then sitting upon to make sure it would not fall or be of a problem to his steed. He took a deep breath, taking in the crisp air around him, hopping to ease the look that he may have had from the moment the question was dropped on him.
“If there is not, I will pick those for you as well.”
A laugh escaped his lips at these words. As he did not fancy himself picking apples, but thought it humors enough to lighten the mood. But he knew that it would not last long.
He knew to ignore the King’s question would propose trouble, cause a drift between he and the King, not to mention the Queen as well. Adalhard would be watch and that was something he would rather not have done. A target on his back was the last thing the knight needed to worry about at this moment. He was born to mold to the liking of anyone in court, as the way his mother would say it. His father taught him to tread careful among those who were cautious of outsiders. Adalhard took a deep breath, looking up at the King as he kept pace with him on foot.
“My loyalty are with Bernard and his choices. I am loyal to my country and it’s future first, your majesty. You could only expect one to be if they truly love their King.”
Adalhard knew this was not the answer that he was looking for, but it was an answer nonetheless to help the King understand where he stood and give an idea of what he would do. Though England and Poland were two separate and independent countries, he knew to be careful because of Bernard and his standings. He would not do anything to anger the King, as he has come to see him as a friend. Not only that, the man was a good King even at a young age. Adalhard respected him. But the secrets of magic folks was making all this far more complicated than he wanted to admit.
“I apologize now if I have offended your highness in anyway. I do not wish to blind you with anything, but I have come here in following the Duke’s orders. Otherwise I would still be in Poland behind a desk.”
Godric or the King of England? The two were important to him than one could imagine. It was simply saying who he was against who he should be. How could one choose between the two when all he wanted was peace for both?
—————
Lambert, too, laughed, the idea of him sending out his knights to pick apples was humorous and maybe just something he would have to do when feeling a little down, he shook his head some, letting the horse slowly move along, his hands slack on the reigns, looking over for a moment at the animal on the other horse’s back, but when Adalhard began to speak he looked down at him, watching him, eyes on his face, on his eyes. When was finished he lazily moved his hands to his gloves, pulling them both off and shoving them in a bag, letting the cool air move between his fingers,
‘There are many who would swear fealty to me, and me alone, at the drop of a hat, you know.’
He started, a glimmer of amusement dancing over his features for just a second, but he hid that, tongue sliding out over his lips like a shy, pink animal, and he turned his head, looking away in feigned nonchalance, fingertips dancing over the animal’s skin,
‘I am not English, a lot of those people, the ones who bend the knee every day, come asking for money, food, protection, whatever it may be, many of them would do the same to any other king, any other man that wore a crown atop his head or had his derriere on the throne, they would turn without the flutter of an eyelid. I need honest people, Sir, I need those to question me when I make a misguided decision—as is all too likely to happen with the company I am forced to keep.’
It was obvious enough that he was aware of the men that surrounded him, their loyalties lay with his wife far more so than they did with him, but did he really care? He would find his own men, he was the King of England, the councils and courts were made of men and women he saw fit to have, and soon enough it would be so—no matter what his wife said. He would fill the place with people he could trust, people whose company he actually enjoyed, or could learn to enjoy, perhaps he’d ship a few more people over from home, who knows.
‘Come then, let us drop the beast within the walls, I don’t think my day is over just yet, I’ve many more things to ask you, Sir. Perhaps a flagon of wine, too, some food.’
His eyebrows rose some, as if challenging the man to deny him company.
—————
Being careful was an understatement for Adalhard right now. He knew he was swimming in deep end. But being as honest as he could was something he was proud of and was good at. Nothing he said to the King was a lie. He spoke the truth, carefully, but the truth nonetheless. He would choose to be on Bernard’s side, as he had already promised the man he would stand behind as a knight and friend. If some how Godric did become the enemy, Adalhard would do his best to mend what had been broken.
Hearing the King laugh though at his comment eased the knight momentarily. It was healthy for a man in Lambert’s position to be in such a mood frequently. A happy King meant happy followers. Plus, Adalhard enjoyed him this way. There was less of a standard to withhold when the King acted as one of them.
Adalhard wasn’t a fool. He knew that many threw their hats on the ground for the King without a thought. But he stood in a position far more delicate than most of those men. He smiled briefly at the Kings words, looking away at the path ahead of them. Bernard was his future. Though that did not mean he could not have faith in the King either.
“We all need honesty in our lives, your majesty. What the trouble is, is not finding those men, but of how we actually handle the truth that is thrown at us. Are you a man that will accept the truth no matter what it entitles? Or one that will take the truth and spin it to a lie for it be bearable?” The question wasn’t one to be directed to the King alone, as it was a question that all men and women would need to answer when it came time to it. Adalhard himself faced the consequences of the finding out the truth every day. It was simply something to think about.
But the King was right to have the right company beside him. It would not bid him well if all his advisers were followers of the Queen. It wouldn’t make any matters better for Adalhard either. “If you have to think twice about trusting someone, then maybe they are not worth your trust to start with.” Adalhard pulled on the reins below, moving the horse forward to keep up with his pace as he glanced at the King.
Adalhard couldn’t help but grin and hold back his laughter at the last request. He looked over at the King amused, “I am starting to believe that you are in reins with Bernard. Keeping me away from the Duke so he can go off and do what he please. I hope I am not right as it will only cause us all more trouble after.” It was a mere jest, but the thought had come to him. He had not seen Bernard all day and the moment he had awoken, he was asked to company the King in his hunt. Him out of all his knights.
“If you request my presences, than I am honored to continue.”
But alas, he must find the one man he was barely seen without during the day. Duke Bernard must be wondering about somewhere in the palace. Maybe speaking to the princess? Adalhard had figured that Bernard would grow to like her during his stay here. Who wouldn’t? That, and they were both a man and woman of god. Something that Adalhard would keep his head out of if he could. It was hard enough to tip toe around Bernard when such a topic of faith came up. Was it truly hard to believe that the only faith the knight had was that in his friend? He was a man that needed to see something to believe it. To understand it completely, before having faith in it.
He turned a corridor, peeking his head before to see if anyone was about. He saw a few servants turn the opposite way, and another lord brushing past him with a simple nod. Walking past another door, Adalhard took a glimpse of the man sitting inside. Raising his brow his memory lurched forward to find the name to the face. Heming. Thorkell’s brother, one man that he knew very well. But this one, this Heming, Adalhard had the unfortunate to know very little of the man. Suppose this was a good time as any other to know more? Reaching out, he knocked on the door, raising his brow as he pushed the door opened a bit to see in clearly.
“Do you mind some company for a short time? It seems you have been keeping yourself hard at work. And I have grown tired of searching for the Duke.”
Adalhard kept his distance from the man, letting his eyes wander about the room, taking in anything he could learn about the man that may be lingering around. “You are Heming of Aggersborg, are you not? The younger of the two brothers, as I can recall?”
—————
Writing instructions on how to properly transfer an army for future references was not easy. It was tedious and hand’s are prone to cramps, but the only man who can do it right is Heming, and at least someone recognizes that. It isn’t nearly enough, he thinks bitterly hunched over his desk, but it’s a start. Then again, he’s been doing this for years. The servants scurried around Heming, their heads down low as they cleaned up his dinner that he hadn’t even touched. He wasn’t hungry and eating meant he’d have to stop to eat and that meant having the instructions pushed back another hour, and Heming could not have that. The sooner these trifles were finished, the better. Then, Heming will think about eating.
Heming did not bother to look up from the parchment, his free hand tangled in his hair while the other wrote furiously yet not quickly enough for his liking at all. He didn’t need company nor did he want some, unless the man was going to sit in the corner and not speak until Heming was finished. He didn’t any babbling when his concentration was so high as it was now. Then the man mentioned his brother and Heming’s quill went off the side of his parchment, slashing through the above sentence, and of course this man new of Thorknell. Of course. The man didn’t mention his brother by name, thankfully, but it was still enough to dislodge Heming’s train of thought.
“Yes, yes. I am Heming, the younger brother. Thank you for kindly reminding me. For a moment I had forgotten my brother.” Heming spoke with bitterness conviction and sighed, letting his quill fall from his hand. He leaned back in his seat and with an unimpressed stare, looked up at the man, speaking dryly, “And wouldn’t that be a shame.”
And just like that, Heming hunched back over his desk and got back to work, hopelessly trying to fix his mistakes, irritation high and clear. “No thank you, sir. I don’t wish for company at this moment.”
—————
“How could one forget family? In likeness or not.”
Adalhard gave a faint smile on his lips, knowing very well the tension between the two brothers that may be lingering. He knew the frustration that Heming felt, as it was something common to him at times to feel such emotions. Not towards the Duke, as he felt nothing but friendship and loyalty to the man. But there were many others that he knew who took their pride so hide and forgot about those who brought them where they stood now. It was annoying, and sometimes hard to get over, but Adalhard had learned years ago that it was never worth it. It was never worth throwing hatred at those who could barely see the finer details the world had to offer.
Though he doubted this man knew who he was, or the similarity they possibly shared hiding behind a brighter light. That or he was so keen on being closed off to everyone. If it was one thing that Adalhard learned from his family, it was how to mend to others liking. Lucky enough for the man, Adalhard never took bad behavior too seriously. He raised his brow, glancing at the male as he spoke with dry words. The knight was not here to impress the man, he had simply come to make idle chat, get to know the man behind the general.
Taking a deep breath, he moved his hands behind him, holding onto his wrist, as he let his eyes fall from the man and to the décor of the room. He always found the design of every palace entertaining. Each one had their own touch to it. Even the drapes had its own charm to it. Letting his eyes fall onto the man at the table, Adalhard held back a smile.
“Even if you wish it not, it has found you. My advice, if I may speak out of term this once,” Adalhard let his hands fall from behind him to rest at his belt, “never believe your work is far more important than your life.”
—————
Heming could not help but crack a small smile, a soft and rare chuckle coming from him. Although this had been the first time Heming has talked to this man, and some time since he’s not forced a man to leave his chambers, the man had a wit about him that he could easily tolerate. Hopefully the man will realize that Heming’s friendship isn’t something to take lightly, seeing as Heming holds all friendships to a high standard.
“Trust me, friend. It is very easy to do. Yet it is even easier to remember them.”
Heming scrubbed at his beard as he looked down at the smudged papers on his desk and neatly pushed them away. He did not want to look at them, but that didn’t mean he was going to throw them away and ruin hours of work. He was not the careless type of man, nor did he take things for granite unlike his brother can or the other men he is forced to work with. Nevertheless, the mead did help the headaches. Heming laughed again, deep from his belly and looked up at the other.“And if my work is my life? You are a knight, yes? You can thank me for feeding you during the winter months when you are off gallantly fighting battles.” Heming rolls his eyes, but his tone leans towards teasing.
Shrugging, Heming grabbed the skin of mead off the corner of his desk and pulled out two tankards, slamming them on top of desk with gusto. “Speak as freely as you wish, but if you are so keen on staying then you must drink with me. No friend of mine stays thirsty!”
—————
Well, there it was. A smile had finally surfaced on the other man’s features. Adalhard could not help but do the same. He knew how tiring it became to be hunched over a desk all day filling out paper work, doing this and that for armies to take stride. The knight knew very well what hole Heming was in. But once in awhile, it was best to crawl out and see the sunlight. Adalhard would promise to take Heming out of that dark hole once in awhile, especially when he needed it. Company should be preferred than being left alone.
“I could not find reason to forget family. Even if they seem to be the worse of the lot.”
A small smile came across his features, knowing that he was not necessarily close with his family, but would do nothing to forget who they were, and what they stood for. It reminded him what he stood for, and who he was. Most of the time his actions were based off what his family had not taught him, but what life had.
Adalhard could not help but laugh. How amusing it was always to hear everyone say he was nothing but a night. “Dear friend, I must correct you. As I do gallantly fight battles to defend our future, I am also a trusted adviser to the Duke of Poland. Whatever battle comes forth, I too am part of…” Adalhard looked down at the desk full of papers, giving a small laugh at what always awaited his desk when he returned to it. “It does not help that I am also appointed head of my home village. I do what I can to ease the tension of the Duke, and I ask for nothing in return.”Well, beside a drink from his friend later that evening. He took could welcome the taste of mead after a hard day.
But Adalhard took care of the work that was given to him for the day earlier. He sighed heavily as he walked toward the desk, taking one of the tankards. Smiling, he toasted the man silently before taking his first sip. “I understand your situation, Heming. It is not easy to hide behind a taller man.” Figuratively and literally that was. “But do know, your reward will come one day. Your work does not go unnoticed.” The knight took another swing of his tankard, letting the drink go down slowly. He still had plenty to do the rest of the day, he couldn’t be found drunk in the halls of the castle.
“Do tell me, Heming,” Adalhard looked up to the new acquired friend with a smile, “what is it you wish to accomplish in life?”
—————
Heming was disappointed. He hoped that Adalhard would understand why he hated his family so, but it was very likely that Adalhard had a very different situation growing up as a child. Instead of having his brother’s mother for a mother, Heming had her sister Heming hated his father for this and more importantly, his mother. Growing up, he was ridiculed and teased for having a trollop for a mother, but thankfully Thorkell was always there to pick up the pieces. Thorkell lessened the growing pains, but it did not last long, and Heming was soon left without a brother, without a friend. All he had for the years to come was his misery.
Heming sighed and shook his head, staring down at the mead. “Ah, perhaps this is what sets us apart. I could easily forget my family and not bat an eye.” He snorted and took a quick gulp of his drink. “Fear not, I no longer pray for their death. My father is a bastard and my mother is a whore. That’s all I have to say on the matter.”
Heming raised an eyebrow at Adalhard and slowly nodded, impressed as he took the time to look at the man now. So he was not just another naive and pathetic knight that sent Heming into a uncontrollable spiral of depression. Good. That meant his time would not be wasted if he spent it on Adalhard. “Nothing in return, ey? How noble of you. I say take what you will, not what you get, and don’t give a bloody thing back in return.” He cast a wicked grin towards Adalhard.
Thoughtfully, Heming tilted his head to the side quizzically, a finger tracing the rim of his tankard. Was his work noticed? Did it go past the servants and the average day knight thinking how lucky they were to be fed and warm before going off to the fight the enemy, not being able to picture a face or even a name, not even know how they survive but just know they do? Heming doubted it. Ever since they were halfway to being men, Thorkell has stolen the spotlight. Truth be told, Heming is quite skilled in archery but because his brother wasn’t, he had to beat down the younger boy so he would say that the stag was Thorkell’s kill, not the gangly Heming.
But he liked Adalhard and the man couldn’t be so foolish to lie to Heming (nobody lied to Heming if they cherished their life) and he hardly seemed to be the type to lie no matter what. Heming smirked, it was small with undertones of plot, but it was there nevertheless. In one gulp, Heming had drained his tankard full of mead and gladly filled it back up. “I don’t know if I believe you, but I appreciate the thought that my work doesn’t go unnoticed. But you are correct about one thing, Adalhard; my reward will come one day. I’m not one to make useless promises, but I can promise you that.”
Just as he brought his mug up to his lips, Heming paused and blinked at Adalhard. He didn’t think he heard the man right. Was he going deaf? Surely he couldn’t be that old. He leaned forward, straining his neck so he be able to hear Adalhard properly. “Pardon me, what was that?” he asked, his voice quiet, brow furrowed as he looked at the floor as if it held the answer.
—————
Though Adalhard barely spent time with his family, as Bernard took most of his hours during the days, he had always thought of them. They were not what he could have hopped for in a family, but they were what he was given, and he took it in the best manner he could. His parents still loved him, even with the different paths that they choose. It was hard in the beginning, and he was sure he would have been a mess without his friend, but it was worth it in the end.
But to say such words about their own parents always startled the man. So he spoke no words against with Heming said of his mother and father, and simply drank in silence. It was then that Adalhard let the subject of family fall, and continue about other things.
Adalhard gave a small laugh at the other’s comment. Take what he could? And give nothing back? Those words went against all that he stood for, what Bernard stood for - how could he do such a thing? “If we take what we can and give nothing back, we have become as selfish and spiteful as those we do not respect.” Adalhard could have been called weak for thinking such things, but the man believed that such actions would always come to horrible consequences. What Heming said may have come from the bitter taste of having to always drink what was left of the glory his brother took. The knight knew nothing of the man’s past to ever judge if it was right or wrong to act such a way.
Raising his brow, the knight casually looked down at his drinking, “Believe me or not, Heming. That is your decision. But I have said what I believe you needed to hear, and those words are true.” A small smile came across Adalhard’s lips as he took another drink of his mead. He wasn’t even half way through and had gotten tired to the taste. Normally the knight was never the one to drink so early in the day, but if someone had offered it to him, he would not decline, as it was polite not to. He mentally sighed as he shook his head at the other’s words. For some reason, those words sounded a bit threatening from the man’s lips. None the less, Adalhard seem to continue on with his tracks of becoming this man’s friend.
A laugh escaped Adalhard’s lips as he looked to Heming. “I simply asked what it was you wish to accomplish in life, Heming. Do you see yourself sitting behind a desk for eternity? I did not imagine you as the type of man that would fall to such a thing.” Honestly, Adalhard couldn’t imagine anyone being able to sit behind a desk for the rest of their life. It was impossible for even him to do so and he was content with any work that was given to him.
A Lost Smile | Sir Godric and Hengist The Woodcutter
Yet in better attempts to reason, to show more of the shrewdness and the intellect that it was claimed he possessed. Godric thought himself somewhat clever on the basis he did retain a great deal of information, he had traveled to learn many things but still not nearly as clever to be compared to his fellows. Even Helga had a great deal of cleverness in her simplicity. “A double edged sword that is, both do sting but I think lying is a greater fault.”
Believe in the Good | Hengist The Woodcutter and Lord Thaddeus
“I said you were to not lose me so as long as you can understand Brutus is to be wed. He is no longer yours, or mine, but Lysandra’s.” His, in terms that he wouldn’t ever be with him the way he once was.
King's Game | King Lambert and Sir Adalhard
‘You are friends with Sir Godric, I presume? Tell me, Adalhard, what would you do were he deemed a traitor, or accused of something akin to it? Would you remain loyal to your friend, or to your King? And don’t lie to me.’
Drunken King | King Lambert and Sir Adalhard
Regardless of that he didn’t pick the glass up again, instead letting it sit, half-full, on the table, the grin melting down into a content smile. Lambert never wanted to be King, he never wanted to have these people tiptoeing around him as if he would strike with that unnecessary cruelty that most Kings were known for. No. He wanted to have friends, have food and drink, to enjoy himself and let his darling wife take over the general proceedings, though as of late he had come to learn that perhaps that wasn’t the best way to go, perhaps she was doing more bad than good.
In Hiding | Sir Brutus and Lord Thaddeus
Letters with the King | Lambert and Sir Godric
I hope that we shall be able to talk freely when away from the sneaky eyes and prodding noses of the London court, you make well to stay away from it, I can only imagine the damage it could do to one’s personality, it seems there is little more than fathers wanting to wed their daughters, Lords and Ladies wanting more land than they know what to do with and a ridiculous amount of well-wishers for my lady wife who would no doubt jump at the chance to be the one to put us both in our graves.
Never Cry Wolf | Sir Adalhard and Josephine the Fox
“But where would be the fun in that, good sir? Now you my craft a tale when you leave of how you narrowly missed being swayed by the fae and other such forces in the dark forest.” She flashed a wry smile, very much aware that by her stature and features she too could be a fae and mortal men knew better to mix with such creatures.“That is a finer tale to weave up at the castle and you are better off treading that path of light, gentle knight.”
Reminiscent | Helga the Sweet and Sir Godric
Of Little Talks | Sir Adalhard and Sir Godric
“I was under the impression that asking of his beliefs in a greater good and God would stir a spiritual awakening of sort.” Now Godric was aware that such understanding was a great deal to ask, even a great deal more to process but Lambert was to be a better man. “For that of our kin but for the king himself, he is of magic blood, did you sense it? I thought that it would be a moment of understanding.”
It Will Be Okay | Qwara and Bernard
Being Together | Andros and Damara the Omnivorous
Raw Chipmunk | Piggly & Adam
Building Friendships | Cliodna & Helga
In Sickness & Health | Helena & Edric
"Seven Deadly Sins" | Abigail & Elizabeth
Fergus & Nairne │"Moths to a Flame"
Cloaking Your Intention | Wilfred & Eleri
To Catch a Thief | Eleri the Evil & Adam the Young
A Sliver of a Chance | Josephine the Fox & Sir Adalhard
Adalhard stood where he was as Josephine once more took steps ahead of him. He had remembered the last time he took the chance to follow her. It had seemed that he had bothered her in doing so, and which ever way she turned, she was doing so to loose her tail. The knight couldn’t help but smile though when she turned around and beckoned him to follow her.
Awkward Conversations | Count Elijah & Eleri the Evil
Believe in the Good | Hengist and Thaddeus | September
—————
“Define angry, m’lord?”
Hengist wasn’t angry anymore, just disappointed that he seemed to be out of the loop with both of them. Both Brutus and Thaddeus. Not to mentioned that it had hurt to see them together, that way. It only explained how foolish he was for not believing in his gut feeling from the start. Next time he would listen rather than expect the best of everyone.
“How long has it been?”
How long had it been? He hadn’t bothered to see or speak to Thaddeus in what seemed like days, weeks possibly. Hengist was far too busy in his own mind and forgotten the drinks the two shared many weeks ago on their first meeting in London. How things were far much easier then.
—————
‘Don’t call me that.’
He said quietly, suddenly feeling very small and very weak, vulnerable under the other man’s gaze, the man he’d already considered a best friend, a relationship that had been lost with bad timing. It had been weeks since the incident maybe longer, a month or more, and he just could not forget it, he missed his friend and that coupled with the crippling guilt of what he’d done to him—not to mention the guilt that overcame him each and every time he found himself in bed with Brutus, clawing at skin, biting and moaning.
‘A long time..’
He replied finally, hands shoved nervously beneath the light furs of his clothes,
‘I miss you.’
—————
“And why not? You are a lord are you not? It never bothered you before when it came from others.”
Hengist always joked with Thaddeus about being a lord. Joked to the point where he actually played dress up thanks to another and went to go see Thaddeus for a drink. The last drink that they had since their encounter in his old room he used to share with Brutus. The thought, the scene, simply made him go numb. Whatever he was feeling in the pit of his stomach used to be on fire but not it was simply lying there in ashes. And honestly, it wasn’t a pleasant feeling to deal with on a day to day bases.
As lovely as Thaddeus was dressed, Hengist was once more found his in hunting clothes. He had no reason to dress to impress at Hogsmeade, nor did he intend to do so ever. The woodcutter did his best to not feel anything on those last words of the lord, but there was something there. He wouldn’t deny that he didn’t miss the other and their comments they shared.
Hengist wouldn’t have looked Thaddeus in the eyes if it weren’t for the bond they had created. But that bond had been strained. So strained that Hengist even thought that it would be possible to cut it completely with all the lies that had been cast by the young lord. Young lord, what a horrible title for him to hold when he meant no honesty. Thaddeus had such power and yet refused to use it for good, or so at least getting him good wine on the day he came to see him finally.
“You knew who he was to me yet you held the truth of your relationship to him. Why?”
—————
He was a Lord, yes, but not to Hengist, not to the man that had shared so many drinks with him, shared so much time with him, he’d loved Hengist, and still did. He bit his lips together and looked down to the floor, his hands wringing nervously. He had no answer to the man’s question, he could barely open his mouth, barely form any words.
‘I-.. I didn’t know that.. Y-you… I’m sorry. I didn’t think..’
He frowned heavily, looking over him, his fingers pulling at threads on his clothes, shaking slightly. He didn’t know what to do, what to say, how to even begin explaining or apologising. He still hadn’t stopped seeing Brutus and his stomach twisted violently each time he did and he knew, already, no matter how much he loved Brutus it would not be the same anymore.
The tears sprung to his eyes and he moved the back of his hand to wipe and rub at them, sniffing a little bit. He wasn’t sure what else he could say, but what could he say? Tell Hengist how he loved Brutus, tell him how he needed him and couldn’t stand a day without him? What good would it do? Hengist felt the same way, didn’t he? He loved Brutus, too.
Why hadn’t he told him? Is it because he was afraid that he would tell somebody else, afraid that his wife woul find out, did he even care? Or was he just afraid in general, afraid of admitting his ownnl sexuality to himself.
‘I’m sorry..’
—————
Hengist raised his brow curiously at Thaddeus as he watched his actions. From the man that was once so stuck up in his own life, swimming in his own money, he was having trouble forming words for the first time. Hengist knew Thaddeus was never a man to hide his words, especially not to his friends. He had heard everything, literally everything come out from that man’s words. The young woodcutter remember just how much talk the young lord was during the tourney.
“Yes, you didn’t think. Who would have expected that from someone in a role of power?”
He looked about the clothing once more, watching his fingers fidget around the strands and buttons. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. Shaking his head, Hengist wanted to slap the idiot ahead of him. “Your on the brink of going mad,”and it seemed like he was from the way he was acting. It was worse than a child would be, seeing how they knew what was right from wrong. Thaddeus was a grown man, married and all. He would have children if he did not already. Hengist hadn’t gotten to know the man’s family in detail other than he was having trouble with his wife.
Hengist was having trouble in wanting to forgive him for what he had done. He didn’t have the slightest idea what was going about now with the two, but he was sure if he knew, the woodcutter wouldn’t like it. But things had to change, Brutus was getting married, to a woman that Hengist adored in his life, and he would be damned if Thaddeus got between to ruin it.
“Two conditions for my forgiveness. You keep your distance from Brutus as he is getting married now to a good friend of mine. I do not wish to hear of you causing them trouble. And the other…your an arse. Change your ways before you lose everyone.”
The tears that were hiding at the corner of the lord’s eyes was not something that Hengist wanted to see. As angry, upset, disappointed he was at Thaddeus, he had not hopped to have the man cry over their loss. Well, it wasn’t a loss yet. “Thaddeus, you have yet to lose me.”
—————
His lips quivered and he was forced to bite into them, those words cut deep into him and he was unsure on whether Hengist truly meant to hurt him, really hurt him, or upset him, his nostrils flared though, eyebrows furrowing. The other man posed an ultimatum to him—and then insulted him, but for now he let that slide, he didn’t think himself a bad man, or a horrible man, he’d done little but help his friends, enjoy their company, so he threw money around but he was never stingy, always generous—and it was a decision he was not yet ready to make,
‘But..he’s my friend, too..’
He said pathetically. Thaddeus knew just how miserable he would be without Brutus, one of the only men capable of cheering him when he was in a bad mood, and one of the only men that didn’t take his bad moods to heart, who didn’t bend at the knee each time he was around. There was only so long one could enjoy being treated so differently.
‘Please don’t make me choose between you, Hengist.. I didn’t know, I—I.. Please. I love you both dearly.’
If only the other had known how definitely he’d meant that, how true it was. A life without either of them, he thought, was no life at all—but Thaddeus had always been one for dramatics, and he didn’t even know it.
—————
Hengist placed his hands at his waist, tilting his head and questionably looking at Thaddeus.
“I had asked you to choose?”
Hengist held back a laugh at that comment. When had he asked the other to choose something? He had simply said for him to not bother Brutus with whatever the two were up to as he was getting married. He had hopped that the knight was an honorable man to be loyal to his new wife even if his situation was complicated. It wouldn’t be fair for Lysandra. Hengist wouldn’t want that for Lysandra. It would hurt eventually.
And the Lord himself. Did he not understand that he too was married and was cheating? There was cheating in a game, which Hengist was quite familiar with, but there was also cheating one’s heart, which Hengist was not fond for at all. Whatever the two were doing that day surely was not something he was suppose to walk in on. “I said you were to not lose me so as long as you can understand Brutus is to be wed. He is no longer yours, or mine, but Lysandra’s.” His, in terms that he wouldn’t ever be with him the way he once was.
Friends of course. Hengist saw the captain as his good, best friend from years past. And now that he was to be wed, things between the three would surely change, even his friendship with Lysandra which pained him to think.
“If I called for the dramatics, I would have gone to a play. They at least serve mead there.”
Oh Lord, yes, lord, he had forgotten how dramatic Thaddeus could be at times. He shook his head, his tone far more sarcastic than vicious to the lord.
—————
Thaddeus faltered some, his eyes on the man in front of him, so perhaps he had misunderstood what the woodcutter had meant, that didn’t make it any less difficult of a promise to make. Bit Thaddeus could be a pushover, so quick to rile himself up and scream and cry, yet it was so easy for h, again, to fall into being calm—it was obviously part of his charm.
‘Wine is better than mead.’
He replied, a small smile on his lips despite the fact that his face was still wet and salty from just minutes ago. But he didn’t know, he would try his very best to keep to what Hengist asked of him, even though it would be difficult, he would have to spend more time with him in order to keep himself busy, he would avoid every party and every situation that alcohol and Brutus may be mixed together. He would end up a recluse.
‘You forgive me?’
—————
“Well, some of us prefer what we can afford.”
Hengist raised his brow with a grin at the other. This was casually the topic of the two when they were together. Of how wine was preferred by the royals than mead. Though mead was more than welcomed at every party that he had thrown at the Broomsticks. And well, there was always much laughter that came with the mead than he could ever remember wine giving. The taste of wine was far richer than in mead, but as Hengist had mentioned many times before, he could not avoid such luxuries.
“As I have said. Trust me, you are far from losing my m’lord.”
Whatever it was that Brutus and he had, Hengist wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He had seen with his own eyes what they were doing. And if Brutus truly loved the man, he wouldn’t be getting married. Though Thaddeus himself was married. Was this common among higher class? To cheat behind their wives and do what they wish. For some reason he couldn’t imagine Brutus like that. The man was as dense as they came but Hengist liked him for that reason.
“I suppose we should be celebrating our friend’s engagement. I do not have wine, but I have the best mead you will have ever tasted.”
And with that, Hengist put his arm without a though around the Lord’s shoulders. Hengist wouldn’t forget, but had forgiven. It had been far too long since he had been upset at both of them. It had affected him as well. It was time to move on and live the life he once knew and enjoyed with those he cared for.
—————
The man’s arm around his shoulders was horribly familiar and he melted into it a little bit, having missed it a hell of a lot. He missed the young woodcutter, he missed the way he smelled, the way he felt, just that thick, heavy, warm air of friendship. He knew that Hengist would never forget what he’d seen, and that he’d probably never really forgive him, not fully, and he wasn’t too sure why. The man had never openly admitted to having such strong feelings for Brutus, but now he didn’t have to, Thaddeus was just surprised he hadn’t seen it before, and he was surprised how it made him feel, was it some kind of sick indifference, was it jealousy, or was it fear? He and Brutus were far better friends than Thaddeus had been with him, and probably ever would be. Would Hengist be the one to take him away?
His lips turned up into a small smile and he let his arm circle around the other’s waist,
‘Yes.. yes.. let’s celebrate the engagement, the wedding.’
He let the man lead him off, looking forward to the mead that would soon follow.
It was still early in the day, far too early for Hengist to normally be up doingwork. But here he was once more, the summer breeze tickling his bare back, chopping away at the poor broken down tree in the forest. Soft thuds to be heard throughout the forest.
One swing, two swings, three. The tree was already on the ground, unknown as to why for Hengist, but he had gotten the opportunity to put Matilda to work and get some good wood out of the bugger.
If he paid any mind to his breathing, he would have noticed it had gotten shallow, even hard to breath at moments. But no, Hengist’s mind was elsewhere. His talk with Godric last a few days ago, and how the man seemed to be confident that things would work out for the young woodcutter. It bothered Hengist that a man could have so much faith still after all he had seen. He swung once more, a loud thud ringing in the silence.
If only he hadn’t seen that. If only he hadn’t over reacted. “If” thud, “only” thud, “things” thud, “were” thud, “simpler.”
—————
“Has that tree personally offended you that it deserves such a hacking?” Or was that common place for a woodcutter, Godric did not know many in the craft, to be so violent with one. It seemed that each blow was delivered with an astounding force and a meaning. In the clatter of noise it seemed that the woodcutter had not even noticed how quietly the horse and rider had neared him, or even acknowledged their arrival at all. The sound had an eerily loud resonation to it, which had led Godric to Hengist in the first place.
Still in a jovial banter to ease into this conversation, the elder wizard continued.“Last year, Salazar transfigured one into a disfigured serpentine monstrosity, neither really a tree, neither really a snake. He has not the same knack for Transfiguration as he does for potions, and it called him a ‘villainous cur’ for doing so.” Such an antic had been rather hysterical those months ago, as had been the notion that Slytherin had been given such a response from a tree. Certainly Hengist had not done the same, parseltongue was a rare and strange gift, and despite that Godric seemed to think that the tree was not the source of Hengist’s frustration. It was a release that was similar to the brute way that the knight himself, when in a mood, went to battle a training dummy. Some matter of importance was still on the woodcutter’s mind to have risen so early and so taken to his craft. Still there was a resounding anger to this action, and this was quite visible. Godric knew that one week ago, Hengist had been troubled, they had conversed most briefly at about it. He pondered if the woodcutter had actively sought out Helga as Godric had suggested, certainly she was closer to him as Hengist had arrived on her invitation to the castle, or that she was still not to be found. Where his three friends had gone off to was foreign to him, and Godric could only hope they were not having some grand adventure without him.
“If the tree has not offended you, who has?”
—————
The woodcutter hoovered over his next hit for a second as he heard words coming from the silence. Startled, Hengist let his love rest at his side, “Trees are trees, they do not have feelings which has come to my liking.”
Hengist turned to look at Godric Gryffindor on his horse, curious as to why the man was out and about so early in the morning.
“Are you implying something, Sir Gryffindor?” Hengist raised his brow at the comment of Salazar’s transfiguration story. “If you do, please warn me now as I will need to figure out a way to protect myself of such a monstrosity of a mistake to be.” Oh how Hengist would rather not have his own story to relate to the other founder. He rather like where his stories were and kept him in one piece, more or less. “Or do you speak meaning this tree will come to bite me in the arse one night when I am sleeping?”Because that surely would be a sight Hengist would be willing to see, even experience for the laugh of it. Still, it caught him off guard, the comment of the tree and Salazar. The only reason Hengist could come up with as to why Godric said it in the first place was because such a scene reminded him of the past memory. Good for him to get a laugh, at least one of them would.
Hengist was angry, yes, but at the poor tree in front of him? No, he was simply giving out his frustration on the object so no one else around would come to notice his anger. When was the last time anyone had ever seen Hengist angry? Never, the young woodcutter was always found with a echoing laughter and a smile on his lips.
“Godric, I think you know the answer to that question.”
The words spilled out quickly without any specific tone to follow suit but that of truth. He chooped once more at the wood, breaking the piece he was after for the last ten minutes in half finally. Taking a deep breath, he kicked the smaller piece off to the side, watching it roll off opposite to him. “I took your words to heart Godric, and sought for Helga, but it seemed that my search wasn’t enough. I suppose she is busy with whatever the castle duties has her do.” And with that, he had never gotten any true advice of what he should do, digging him deeper into the hole he had already created.
“What do you do when a friend has lied to you about the utmost important thing?”
—————
“Are you certain? The lot of us were quite agreed that the trees here are wilder. Then again, if the woodcutter says otherwise…”
He had heard this saying more then once, a range of different persons had said it, but had not yet heard from the woodcutter on the matter. For a second, he almost felt disheartened for Godric did want to believe that there was magic here, deep in the earth, that affected the sky, the mountains, the trees. All that made it so very appealing, so very perfect to lay down the foundations of their school. The foundations of the future. Why else would Rowena have had a dream, felt the calling to come to this location? Magic inevitably drew magic. Perhaps that was all too overtly romantic of a thought, however. It was time to be a realist.
Godric scratched at a reddened cut in his beard that had yet to heal, “I am merely offering an antidote to clear the air and obvious tensions.”Gryffindor rarely applied the efforts to imply or infer such things in speech, those were traits left to Rowena or Salazar.
“If it does bite you whilst you sleep that would make for the perfect beast to add to those monster stories that the muggles are so fond of crafting. Imagine the terror at being told such a thing.” He had gone wicked again at the thought. It was not as if such stories were new, there were many that spoke of such creatures as dryads. If he recalled properly there were even organzied sub-types within Greek culture that defined what sort of a dryad one was depending upon what trees they interacted with. Nymphs associated with apple trees were Epimeliad, and walnut-trees were called Caryatids.Furthermore , in that same culture, dryads and the Greek gods punished any mortals who harmed trees—clearly woodcutting was not yet an art and with many a good reason— without first appeasing the tree-nymphs. If there was a man who had to fear the trees, it was Hengist. “I would be weary of dryads.”
It was Hengist’s turn to imply, and he was far better at it.
“Legilimency is not one of my crafts.” He commented casually still, again this was not a skill Godric was in possession of. To be most frank in terms of having such a repertoire of mastery of both difficult and if not rare magic, the knight was quite lacking. He was certainly not, on oversimplified terms, a mind-reader and if he were, Godric could have avoided a great deal of trouble. It could have been a saving grace. He was quite aware of where he lacked but of who had angered Hengist so, Godric knew nothing of. The woodcutter’s instance otherwise only made the knight question if he was truly as involved with Hogwarts both in terms of development and its students as he thought himself to be.
What do you do indeed? A series of questions followed afterwards while Gryffindor mused the subject. Was this ‘utmost important thing’ the bases of which this friendship was developed? Was all that followed that initial lie, lies as well? This hardly seemed a question that he was adept enough to answer as Godric reasoned that he had been quite fortunate in his years to not have dealt with such a situation and that his friends were as candid as he was. Among the qualities that the knight admired then sought in his friends, not only those who he invited to the castle but anyone Godric did call a friend, was loyalty. Granted it was often hard to find under such louder traits as bravado, confidence and whatnot, still that trait was there. He could only hope in the long years that followed the golden era of the founders that this would be remembered, that his house would mean a great deal more then daring nerve and chivalry.
“I attempt to reason what basis they had for their lying, and if the friendship afterwards was based on that. Was it a lie to defend themselves, a lie to defend you, or simply a lie. Let that be a base for judge of character.”
—————
“Wild or not, I am sure that Matilda and I are more than capable of handling anything that may come at us with a vengeance.”
Had he ever come across a tree trying to kill him? Never before in his life time and the young man spend most his life in the forest cutting them down. And if for some reason they did come to chase him, he already had a plan. Run for the castle with arms flying about him, waving his wand aimlessly. The last he would want was for Matilda to be captured and held hostage against her will by those wild trees Godric spoke of. Yes, that sounded more like what Hengist would be doing if caught in a situation he could not handle. Always bringing trouble to himself and those around him. Nothing ever changed about Hengist the woodcutter.
Hengist shrugged at Godric’s words though. He knew the man was simply trying to help; it was in Godric’s nature to help his friends without anything in return. The woodcutter did his best to smile at the knight. A smile that had only lasted a few seconds most.
The idea was humorous though. To have a tree come about in the middle of the night seeking revenge and biting someone’s behind would truly story to tell during bedtime. It would put another perspective on the children and their antics that was for sure. He raised his brow though at the word of dryads.“You think there are dryads in the forest?” The question was more honest than he thought it would sound. Hengist knew there was magic everywhere near Hogwarts but the idea of dryads had escaped his mind. How little he knew of who stayed at his tavern! The young woodcutter shook his head at the thought, letting it slide.
“If it was, I would be sure to keep my distance from you, Sir Gryffindor.”
A sly smile came to the corner of his lips briefly. There were plenty of things in his thoughts that he would rather not let anyone know. Especially those plans to cause mayhem and havoc. He was sure Godric wouldn’t do much to stop him unless it would cause harm to anyone. But the other founders, Hengist was positive they would do anything to keep the screams of those poor unfortunate souls that fell under his schemes. He was sure Lady Ravenclaw would rather not have her creation stained with his work.
The woodcutter raised his brow, Matilda slung over his shoulder as he heard the Founder’s words. “A lie is a lie, Godric. If you truly cared for someone, you would have never thought to lie in the first place. It is as simple as that.” Hengist always thought the truth was the truth and a lie was just that, a lie. Letting his eyes fall from his friend, he looked down at the tree he had been furiously cutting. But had Brutus told a lie? No, not intentionally, the Captain had simply forgotten about him. “To be forgotten or to be lied to, which is worse?”
—————
“That is reassuring.” Surely the woodcutter could handle himself with an axe, otherwise what an odd job to have fashioned for himself.
“We brought many a beast to the forest but I am quite certain a great deal more lurk in the mysteries of the forests.” He paused and did casually look about. The four founders had collected many a beast and relocated them with the means of educating the students. Drayds were not upon that list, though he doubted this was possible at all. One had to find a drayd, as they had to find a unicorn. Myths and stories on both depicted the creatures having exceptional skill in fleeing and hiding. Unicorns only showed themselves to the pure, and dryads eluded capture by turning into trees, so the stories said. Godric had yet to see one himself, but did not doubt their existence, both here in this forest, and in other such forests about the world. Dryads of pine. The Greek had not accounted that sort in their groupings, of this he seemed oddly certain and yet the idea seemed plenty feasible. Man had yet to solve every mystery the world had to offer, and even if they did, many would dismiss such truths.
“Dryads are included in that grouping, Have you not heard the rumors about the area?” Such rumors and myths said things of men going missing at oddly sequencial points of the year and their numbers were far too high to be a mere coincidence. He had hoped that the notion would have made Hengist laugh, but the smile had been only a fleeting one.
“I fear that would loose me many friends.” He frowned a little and recalled how Salazar had confessed this in but a whisper that this troubled art, one that took a great deal of patience was one that he had mastered. One did not need to go about and brag of such a skill. In fact, it was one that was best not to be spoken of at all except to perhaps a select and trusted few.
It was true a lie was always a lie and even one with the most silken of court trained tongues could not sugar coat a lie as anything but, and Godric did believe this. Yet in better attempts to reason, to show more of the shrewdness and the intellect that it was claimed he possessed. Godric thought himself somewhat clever on the basis he did retain a great deal of information, he had traveled to learn many things but still not nearly as clever to be compared to his fellows. Even Helga had a great deal of cleverness in her simplicity. “A double edged sword that is, both do sting but I think lying is a greater fault.”
—————
Hengist was beyond talented with an axe. He could do with Matilda over his wand and he would be able to rebuild the whole village of Hogsmeade again. No spell could give him the fulfillment he got when he and Matilda were put to work.
The woodcutter did his best to smile briefly, hopping that it was enough to ease the tension that may be hovering their heads. Hengist wasn’t angry with Godric. He wasn’t even sure if he was angry with anyone other than himself. He had been at this behavior for weeks now and he wasn’t certain if it was making the situation any better. But he needed to explain to the founder that he was not at fault for his actions, nor his sharp words. Hengist was simply having another off day, making it countless ones now.
“Then was it smart to bring more? What if they mate and our enemies are made?”
He raised his brow curiously at Godric. There was a bit of mirth hiding in his eyes at the words, but he hadn’t let it stay for too long. He looked down at the tree, the idea of it having been a dryad making him actually think of such creatures in the forest. How horrible it would be to be cutting a tree one moment and then a human leg the other. Hengist made a disapproving face at the thought. How horrid indeed it would be. It was luck as of now that Hengist had not found any dryads to become enemies with. Or maybe it was because he had spent very little time in the forest since his arrival to the school because of all the festivities.
“Godric, I could never see you to lose a friend. A man would be foolish to believe they are better off without a friend like you, sir.”
True words, as Hengist himself would be lost completely if it were not for Godric at times. The honorable knight had helped him once before with his truthful words, kind or not, and here he was again doing his best once more. Taking a deep breath, the woodcutter looked back down at his work. Well, it wasn’t much work because of the lack of skill he was actually using to cut the wood. At least he had gotten one tree down for firewood in the Broomsticks. Since he knew very little of the reasons behind the spell spoken previously, Hengist took no bother to worry over it too long.
He looked to the knight once more though when he spoke of lying being the double edge sword. The side at fault. For just a second, Hengist looked over Godric’s shoulder for nothing in particular, simply looking over and pretending Brutus was standing there with the helpless look he had last left him with. He had lied to him, had he not? About loving someone, about becoming a fiancé to someone, to their friend at that. Sighing deeply, Hengist sat down on one of the logs he cut. Shaking his head, he looked down at Matilda resting between his legs now. “You have heard of Brutus’ engagement?”
—————
“If they mate then it only offers more oppertunities to learn, does it not? We did not transport trolls my good man.” Yes some of what the four founders transported might have been well….cumbersome and mischievous creatures but none posed as large of a problem as say, a troll or a dragon.
“You are kind and I can only hope you are right.” Who was to say he was not loosing friends now? Was that why none of them had spoken since? His insecurities filtered right back in, and he wondered what worth he brought to his friendship with the three brightest witches and wizard of the time. These were matters that he seldom voiced, for Godric wanted no pity party nor did he want empty words of praise. Yet if they were that close, and if two of them were as shrewdly observent as he thought, were such things needed to be said? He was glad for the change in the conversation.
“I have but only from whispers in the hall, as I have heard many things these days.” In his mind Brutus, though thought of as a brother, one who was dear and united by more then the titles, vows of knighthood, was still quite young. His years disagreed with such a thing, but Godric reasoned that Brutus had a great deal more to learn. Yet that could be said too, for all of his friends.
When Godric had invited all of his friends to the castle, he simply hoped that the lot of them would bond and agree with each other. The last he expected was the bonds of matrimony between them. Gryffindor could not recall the last earnest conversation between himself and Brutus let alone one with Lysandra. What flitted to mind was a hazy and yet quite warm memory of how the older group, with the exception of Elfrida who could always stealthily worm her way into such a grouping despite if she were far to young for it, had huddled around the fireplace in the common room of Gryffindor tower. Familiar faces that had sorted themselves quite comfortably on the persian pillows and rug. Caradoc dozed on Brutus’ leg, Cademon at his side a mug between them that had certainly not been filled with water. Elfrida soldiered, but stifled a yawn, on either out of contest to best the two older knights. Then Lysandra began to sing, not a bawdy song like she and Caradoc so loved, but something softer and sweet. Yet even then they had not spoken of such things: love, engagement and marriage. She had already had a fiance once before, but that had ended, why she was so keen to begin anew with another engagement was.
He felt a specter, passing in and out of events in this part in his life and not living them. That was a strange feeling for the man who so eagerly dove into situations, who would and could be found at the heart of troubles.
—————
Hengist did his best to not laugh at Godric’s comments. Give them the best to learn? “How will we learn if they are chasing after us?” Or well, not us, them. Hengist was far from interested in learning about the dangerous animals that would want to try and kill him. Especially those trolls. The woodcutter was found of the woods, as he was just that, a woodcutter. But those pesky trolls and fairies would be in his way half the time. And being who he was, he did his best to not make enemies against those who are far more stronger not necessary powerful.
But an honest smile finally came to his lips as Godric spoke of his kindness. Hengist thought very little of him being kind, but simply being loyal. The knight was a dear friend of his now. Any friend of Helga’s was a friend of his without question. And the founders were far closer to each other than anyone else, he was glad enough to be friends with Godric himself.
“Well Godric, what have you been hearing?”
He couldn’t help but give a curious grin to the other. It was likely of Hengist to ask what and why of people. When was the last time he had done something to cause chaos in the halls? It had been a few weeks, the last time being with Jane and the little water incident. The mere thought made him laugh mentally. The woodcutter was positive that as much of a pain he was to Jane, she must have enjoyed the company, right?
Hengist sighed heavily as he stretched his his arms behind him feeling the stiffness of having cut down more trees than he could count. And even though the trees were small and broken, it was far from easy to take them down. It could have been easily done with magic, but Hengist wasn’t in the mood to wave around a stick in thin air. No, he wanted to his love for cutting wood, of creating something with his own hands to keep him busy of thinking about all that had happened the past months.
“Care for a drink or two, dear knight? It’s been awhile. I hope you can tell me of those rumors you hear.”
